Another Time, Another Life
by Pinoko K
Summary: The fifth blight ended centuries ago, another was overdue. Alistair Theirin and Samantha Cousland found themselves onboard the Griffon, fighting the new threat. Somehow it felt like they might have done it before. DA story with Mass Effect spin.
1. All This Has Happened Before

Dragon Age: Origins

Another Time Another Life

A/N: This was inspired by Louvette's future Grey Wardens fanart titled "Join Us" over at deviant art. It's an AU story where Dragon Age's Warden story gets a Mass Effect treatment. Setting in futuristic Ferelden, with Mass Effect's technologies. The characters are about eight years older than their canon counterparts. Cousland here is the very same one from my other story The Rose of Highever. There's a reason why I keep her in this story. The storyline will not follow DA:O. All bets are off.

The title of this fic is from Mass Effect 2 Samara's famous line.

The Griffon is loosely based on Mass Effect 2's Normandy SR2. Cousland's background is also loosely based on Spacer/Soldier/War Hero Commander Shephard.

The opening scene is a tribute to Mass Effect.

A big thanks to RandomWittering for beta-ing this chapter.

Disclaimer: Bioware owns both Dragon Age and Mass Effect.

* * *

**Part I: Eternal Return**

* * *

_~ All this has happened before, and all this will happen again. ~_

* * *

**Chapter One: All This Has Happened Before**

* * *

"Well, what about Cousland?" suggested a middle aged man with a full black beard.

"Military life runs in her family." A young man with short sandy blond hair read out loud from the profile. "Both her parents are admirals. She followed their footsteps and joined the military the day she turned eighteen."

"She is the only reason Highever is still standing," claimed the first man.

"She was awarded the Star of Thedas at the age of twenty-two for her efforts. Many look up to her, she is the poster child for the marines." The young man arched an eyebrow as he finished reading from the file.

"Yes, I remember her," said the third man with hair the color of light gold. His handsome features were strikingly similar to the youngest one in the group. "We can't question her courage. But do you think she has what it takes to pass the test?"

"It's a risk we have to take, sir. The Blight is here, we need all the help we can get," the first man replied firmly.

The third man considered momentarily then said, "Make the call, Duncan."

* * *

The air shuttle ride was just like any of the hundred others she had taken in her life. Lieutenant Commander Samantha Cousland glanced outside from the small window of the shuttle, saying goodbye to beautiful capital city of Orlais as her shore leave was unexpectedly cut short. Such was the life of a career soldier, Samantha knew all too well. As a child, she had her share of abruptly-ended vacations with her parents, when either of them was required to be on some important mission or another.

To the Cousland family, duty came first. Always.

She was not provided with any specific details on the mission. It did not surprise her, nor had she questioned further. There were too many things in the military that were strictly on a need-to-know basis, and too many things she might not even want to know. Samantha knew the drill; they hand you a mission, you get the job done.

And Lieutenant Commander Cousland had been known to get her job done, ever since that fateful battle five years ago in her hometown of Highever.

Good soldiers were not trained to ask questions, but it didn't mean they would not speculate. She was invited to meet with the elite group called the Grey Wardens. Well, invitation might not be the right term, since it was a direct order from her commanding officer.

The Grey Wardens were more than just legendary, they were also rather enigmatic - everyone had heard of them, yet few had encountered them. According to the legend, their order had existed for centuries. Even now, they were still the most elite group of soldiers who specialized in darkspawn killing. Operating outside the normal chain of command, they answered to absolutely no one else in the military but the president. It was the Grey Wardens of the past who had defeated the Blight, more than a few times throughout history. 'In war, victory; in peace, vigilance; in death, sacrifice' was their motto. Since there had not been a Blight for more than two centuries now, the Grey Wardens were no doubt in their 'vigilance' stage, taking out any scattered darkspawn that still surfaced from time to time.

So, to say that she wasn't startled when she received the order to meet with the legendary Order would be a lie, but Samantha was professional enough to keep her composure in front of her superior officer. It was not just any Warden that she was scheduled to have the meeting with, she had been told specifically to meet with their leader – the Captain of the Grey, Duncan.

She had an inkling as to why she was invited to meet with the captain: the Wardens wanted to recruit her. However far-fetched it might sound, that was the only conclusion she could draw. But why would the Wardens recruit now, after being rather exclusive in the past years? Their numbers had died down significantly comparing to centuries ago, to be sure, with only two dozen or so Wardens left in the entire world. Most countries didn't see the need to spend their precious military funding on this elite group, especially when there had not been a Blight for so long. Ferelden was the only exception, mainly because of Cailan's father, Maric.

Did they need new blood during this peaceful time? Perhaps. Still, she chose not to get her hopes up and halted all further speculation.

Tossing another idle glance outside the window, she found a vague image of herself reflected on the smooth surface, sky blue eyes staring back at her. She had been told too many times that she didn't look like a soldier. Perhaps her features were too soft and delicate to fit the image of a seasoned warrior. Her enemies would be making a big mistake by underestimating her, and such mistakes were often fatal. But then again, most of her targets had never seen her face, for she would often end their lives with one single bullet through their forehead with her sniper rifle.

The twenty-seven year old marine looked as professional as ever in her fitted black hard suit, scratches on her armor served as badges of honor. A meeting with the Wardens did not require to be suited up, of course. But Samantha liked to travel light, instead of storing her light armor in another duffel bag, she chose to wear it. Besides, if the Wardens wanted to recruit her, it would be because of her skill as a soldier, not how good she looked in a dress. Her armor would be more appropriate attire than the dresses she had in her suitcase for the Val Royeaux vacation. Said suitcase had been sent back to her apartment in Denerim, the rest of her essentials were neatly stored inside a bag by her feet. Practicality had been drilled into her even before she started her life officially as a marine recruit, at least when she was on duty. The only thing she allowed herself to sway from the harsh military image was her long hair, which was now neatly tied up in a golden bun, safely within the standard dress code.

It was no accident that the military used her as the gold star standard for new recruits. Samantha did not like that attention one single bit, yet she knew the decision came from the top - there was nothing she could do, despite her personal feelings about being used as recruitment bait. After all, who would better served as the poster child for the marines than the savior of the Highever incident? Not to mention that the Couslands had served in the military for many generations, she could almost be considered being some sort of military blue blood. Some of them even held positions as high as admirals, the most recent examples were none other than her parents, Bryce and Eleanor Cousland.

She had always been close to her family, even though she seemed to be constantly living under the shadows of both Admirals Cousland. To some extent, it was true, even her older brother Fergus had made captain last year. And what was her rank? Right, lieutenant commander. Still, Samantha didn't mind being the youngest and the lowest ranking Cousland in her family. Military had been her life ever since she took her first breath, some might even say it was in her blood. Sometimes, it might even seem as though everything had been chosen for her even before she was born, that she was destined to be on this particular path, living this particular life, in this particular time.

Destiny? Samantha let out a faint snort at that ridiculous thought. There was always a choice, nothing was written in stone. Even if so called destiny were craved in marble, someone could always use a laser tool to remove the surface layer, erasing the words on the stone, then started anew. A clean slate, or tabula rasa - she had always liked those words.

Samantha shook her head to clear any more random thoughts. The flight would take a few hours, as she had been told. She relaxed on the seat then pressed a switch on the device on her wrist. Her omni-tool booted up instantly, forming a hologram with an orange glow wrapped around her left forearm. Slender fingers rapidly danced across the small keyboard of the device, forming a brief email message to both her parents, informing them of her sudden assignment. There was a small surge of pride as she typed the words 'Grey Wardens' on the small screen, Samantha could only imagine the look on Fergus' face when he found out who had demanded an emergency meeting with his 'little Sammy'. Perhaps Fergus would send a vid mail to her, or even demand a vid chat later. Who knew being a new captain would mean having more time in his hand?

After the 'send' button was pressed, her finger moved to tap yet another button, and a holographic screen popped up. Samantha idly watched the news program in an attempt to quiet down the budding excitement inside her. Hardly anything could rattle the ever-so calm Samantha Cousland, but then, meeting with the Grey Wardens could hardly count as just anything.

A beautiful couple was on the news again. It was hardly a surprise, for the blonde pair seemed to appear everywhere - dinner parties, official functions, baby-kissing photo ops. The popularity poll for both President Theirin and his wife, the vice president, were sky-high. And why not? Both were young and attractive. Also very intelligent, well, at least the wife was. Together they would usher Ferelden into a new era, or so said their campaign slogan five years ago.

Samantha switched off her omni-tool with a sigh. The butterflies in her stomach refused to be quelled by some news program. Switching strategy, she reached for a datapad from the side of her bag and started reading. She had always loved to read - it was a side to her that not too many knew about. An even lesser known fact was that when she was much younger, her favorite stories were often fairy tales of old. She had kept that silly pastime as a secret from everyone, except those who were closest to her. To date, only five people knew about her once obsession with fairy tales as a child. Four of them were Couslands. And the last one...

Frowning at the unexpected flash of memory, she willed her mind to backtrack before it was even close to that slippery slope. Some things were best left buried inside forever. Samantha diverted her attention back to her datapad; reading had always been an effective way to clear her mind. Her current reading material wasn't any mission briefings but a novel. A historical novel roughly based on the fifth Blight that took place centuries ago in Ferelden, in which an exiled Prince and a pampered noble lady joined the Grey Wardens. Together they had embarked on a journey to end the Blight and save the country. Even though at first glance, Samantha found the premise rather ridiculous, she couldn't deny the book was the perfect guilty pleasure once she had started it. Perhaps that was how it had become a best seller.

Time flew by while she was busy indulging in her secret hobby. Samantha had to chuckle out loud during the part where Prince Alexander tentatively revealed his identity to his Warden companion. The characterization of Alexander was quite good, she had to admit. He was witty, loyal, and friendly. Surprisingly, the author was a man, and Samantha briefly wondered if he had gotten feedback from a female to form the perfect man in his tale.

A glance at the information panel nearby informed her that the estimated time of arrival was within the next nine minutes. Samantha put down her datapad and peeked outside again. There was nothing but water as the shuttle flew by. She was above the Waking Sea, she recognized, traveling roughly east. Forming a map inside her head, she estimated her destination would be around the border of Ferelden.

Why wasn't she being sent to Denerim directly? The Grey Wardens had their headquarters right in the heart of the city, next to the presidential palace. Fine brows knitted in mild perplexity, but she was not about to give it too much thought. All her questions would soon be answered. And if they weren't, it was because the answers were above her clearance level.

The shuttle veered south and approached the shoreline as the Frostback Mountain was in sight. Samantha watched the changing scenery with the patience of a well-trained sniper. After all, patience was the one of the most important parts of sniping - calmly waiting for that one perfect shot, as she had been trained to, in the years since she had picked her speciality. The shuttle flew past the snowy mountain and approached a nearby city. Her mental map told her it was Jader. Yet, it made no attempt to descend. Instead, it hugged along the shoreline for another minute after it passed the border city of Orlais, and flew into Ferelden territory.

Near Ferelden's side of the border, in the middle of nowhere, there was an old military airbase. Although she knew about it, Samantha had never been there. Until now. Resting in this isolated airbase was one very distinctive aircraft, with a blue griffon logo proudly displayed on either side, along with its name "Griffon" in the same hue of blue on the silver surface.

Her fine brows arched up high at the sight of the famous Grey Warden aircraft. So this was where her meeting with the elite Order would take place. Samantha was beyond surprised, for rumor was that no one but the Wardens and a skeleton crew were allowed to be on the Griffon, except, of course, the president himself, who was the major supporter of the Order, both politically and financially.

The Griffon grew bigger and bigger as the shuttle approached its destination. By the time it landed on the airbase and docked next to the famous aircraft, the sheer size of the Grey Warden's air fortress dwarfed the tiny shuttle, so much so it was completely engulfed by the Griffon's shadow. Samantha tried to look up at the Griffon through the small window. It was a rare opportunity to not only have a glimpse of it in person, but to be at close proximity. Although the view outside the window held nothing but its metallic silver surface and a corner of the blue symbol – the griffon's claw, it was more than enough to bring a grin on her face.

A subtle shake of the shuttle shifted her attention. A faint hissing sound indicated a connecting walkway had been sealed between both vehicles. Samantha turned away from the window. In the blink of an eye, the almost child-like wonder on her face vanished into thin air and was replaced with a professional demeanor. Twinkles in the sky blue eyes were gone, the smile on her lips disappeared. It was time to meet the Wardens face to face for the first time.

Gathering her belongings, she stood ready by the shuttle door and waited for the door to slide open. Once it did, Samantha stepped though and cleared the short walkway, then stopped a few steps in front of the metal door with the name "Griffon" proudly painted on it. A computerized voice announced the process of decontamination sequence. Samantha remained still with practiced patience until it announced the sequence was completed. The metal door in front of her hissed and slid open as an invitation to board the famous vessel and she marched right through without delay. Everything was standard procedure, as she had expected. Except she had not expected to be greeted by the person who was waiting for her in the entrance hallway of the Griffon.

"Commander Cousland." A tall man with heavy black beard and sharp dark eyes nodded politely. His outfit was not a military standard edition formal uniform, but a special one made just for the Grey Wardens. The famous griffon insignia embroidered proudly on the chest of his well-pressed jacket.

Although very much caught by surprise, Samantha didn't miss a beat and snapped into a perfect salute, both out of habit and respect, for standing in front of her was none other than the leader of the Grey Warden himself. "Captain Duncan."

"At ease, Commander." The captain offered his hand instead, and she took it with a firm shake. "Welcome abroad the Griffon."

Despite feeling very much in awe in his presence, Samantha managed to keep her composure and nodded respectfully. "Thank you, sir."

"I'm sorry to have to recall you back during your shore leave," Duncan apologized sincerely. "But we need someone like you."

A spark of hope ignited, did they really plan on recruiting her? Samantha resisted the urge to react to that statement, instead, her face remained as calm as ever. "I understand, sir," she responded with a sharp nod.

"Good. Take your time to settle in. You'd be spending some time with us in the foreseeable weeks. I have already cleared your schedule with your commanding officer." Duncan pressed the comm system on his wrist. "Alistair. Come to the bridge immediately." He then motioned her to follow him down the hall towards the bridge, where the combat information center as well as the cockpit were located.

Standing in front of the giant map of the CIC, listening to Duncan's brief introduction to the command center of the Griffon, Samantha took in everything in the heart of this state-of-the-art vessel. She grew up in various military crafts all her life, following her parents as they served their tours during their life long careers. There were times she spent in her family estate in Highever, to be sure, but oftentimes, the young Sammy Cousland could be found somewhere in living quarters of one vessel or another. She was no stranger to what the military was willing to spend on their latest toys.

But the Griffon was nothing she had ever seen before. Not only was it one of the most technologically advanced aircrafts in the entirety of Thedas, but it was also the second headquarters for the famous Grey Wardens, besides their permanent base in the heart of Denerim.

"Captain?" a smooth voice called out and Samantha turned to the newcomer. A tall young man with short sandy blond hair and a friendly yet strangely familiar face walked in. His uniform was not as formal as the captain's. The young man wore a simple black short-sleeved shirt and loose military pants. But the griffon insignia on his chest and on his belt buckle set his outfit apart from standard military casual wear.

"Alistair. This is Lieutenant Commander Cousland." Duncan motioned at her. "Commander, this is Commander Theirin."

That name had the ever so poised Command Cousland raising an eyebrow. _Theirin... as in...?_ Fortunately for the visibly uncomfortable Commander Theirin, Samantha was too tactful to voice her inner question. She offered the young commander a sharp salute. "Nice to meet you, sir."

The young man seemed to be taken aback. "No need to be so formal. We are all family here. Well, sort of..." He extended a hand to her while shooting a sheepish glance at the captain, who merely shook his head in mild exasperation.

Samantha took it with a firm shake as she regarded the blond man subtly. She could see definitely the resemblances between him and President Cailan Theirin. Judging from his age, which seemed to be around hers, he could be President Theirin's younger brother. Although she hadn't known the President had any siblings. Cousin, perhaps?

"Alistair, show the commander around and help her settle in," Duncan instructed. "I'll see the two of you in my office at 1800 hour."

The captain turned and left and Samantha performed another salute out of habit. "We are not your typical military ship, you know. The Grey Wardens _are_ a family of sort." Alistair observed her in amusement.

"But I am not one of you, sir," Samantha reminded him.

"Not yet-" Alistair shut his mouth quickly, but continued just as fast, "And please don't call me 'sir', it still sounds weird to me to this day."

"Yes, Commander."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Please, just 'Alistair'. I'm just Alistair to everyone else here." He paused then pondered for a brief second and added, "and everywhere."

"Very well, Alistair," she obliged.

"May I call you by your name? I don't like to call people with their titles here. It sounds so... impersonal."

"It's Samantha." Her first name didn't roll off her tongue as smoothly as 'Cousland'. If that was not an indication that she had been in the military for too long, she didn't know what else was.

"Right, Samantha, I remember seeing it on your profile. I like it. It's pretty," said Alistair absently with a nod of approval.

Samantha didn't know what to make of that, or how to react to that comment. But she was saved by her companion's inability to remain silent for long. "I don't mean to sound creepy, but... have we met before?"

Sky blue eyes widened in surprise. Instinctively, she studied the face of the man in front of her. He did look familiar, but that was most likely because of his uncanny resemblance to the President. If she had seen him before, she should know. After all, there weren't that many Cailan clones running around Ferelden. "I don't think so." She shook her head slowly.

"Hm..." The commander pondered with his finger tapping his chin as he tilted his head and regarded the blond woman in front of him thoughtfully. "You look familiar..."

An eyebrow arched and a faint half smile surfaced. "Perhaps I have a common face?"

He chuckled. "Oh, I wouldn't say that."

She dodged the implication of the off-handed comment and shrugged. "Then perhaps you've seen me in those recruitment advertisements a few years ago," she suggested rather uncomfortably, then mumbled almost to herself. "Thank the Maker they stopped using those vids. I hated those."

Warm hazel eyes lit up. "Oh, that's right. The Hero of Highever."

Samantha winced slightly at that dreaded title.

"You know, I've always thought you would be more imposing in person." He looked her over in amusement.

She allowed him to inspect all he wanted. It was certainly not the first time she'd heard that comment. The image the military created for her was a rather intimidating one, putting her on the pedestal as the lone savior of the entire city of Highever. But that was far from the truth. The higher-ups knew that, yet it was too good of an opportunity to pass by for boosting the military image. It was a direct order from the top, Samantha was never given the choice to shy away from the title.

Samantha calmly looked at the man who was half a head taller than her. "Looks can be deceiving. I can handle myself better than most."

He flashed a small grin, his eyes twinkled in delight. "I'm getting that impression. Well, let me show you around or Duncan will banish me to the kitchen," Alistair said jokingly. "You don't want me to cook, trust me. I am so skilled that I burn everything that comes in my way."

She let out a soft chuckle at that mental image before she could stop herself.

"You should smile more. It suits you," said the young commander with a friendly smile of his own.

She certainly did not know how to react to _that_. Once again, she was spared from responding when Alistair picked up her pack on the floor. "I can take it myself-"

"Nah- Wow! What do you have in there?" He was surprised by the weight of her deceptively small bag.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Weapons. Mostly."

He raised an eyebrow with his warm hazel eyes lit up. "Weapons, huh? I can see why Duncan likes you. So do I."

For the third time since she met this blond man no more than ten minutes ago, she was rendered speechless without a proper retort. Samantha Cousland was not inarticulate in any sense; she might have Admiral Bryce Cousland's calm demeanor and level-head most of the time, but Admiral Eleanor Cousland's infamous silver-tongue had also been passed down to her. She could have been a military lawyer had she not liked her guns so much. But today, her mind and her tongue had both abandoned her.

Fortunately, her companion wasn't expecting any kind of response at all. "Right, let's go." He motioned her to follow as he walked towards the sliding door, exiting the bridge. "Well, let me show you where the lockers are first, just so we don't have to haul your toys around for the rest of the tour." He paused momentarily, then asked, "Do you mind if I take a look at your weapons, later perhaps?"

She shot him a curious look at his request. No one had ever asked to see her weapons before. Well, no one except... Samantha took a discreet long breath and halted her train of thought. Hazel eyes glanced at her expectantly, she saw no harm in showing him her precious collection. "I don't mind," she agreed with a light shrug.

"Good! Show me yours and I'll show you mine." Had there not be an almost child-like mischievous grin on his face, Samantha would have thought he was flirting with her.

Men and their toys. Typical.

* * *

"This is our second headquarters. But the captain is usually here, he doesn't like to stay at one place for too long. When we are done with our missions, we come back here to report back to him," Alistair explained as he led the way through the hallway.

"The Griffon seems pretty empty. You are often on missions, then?"

"Lately, yes," said Alistair whose friendly face turned slightly grim as he stepped in an elevator and pressed a button. "All of the Wardens are gone as of this moment, except for me, of course. And Duncan. We maintain a skeleton crew here, essential just to fly the Griffon, but not a single staff more than that."

"For security purposes," Samantha reasoned.

"Smart." Alistair grinned. "The less people we have, the less chance there's a security leak. But I trust our people, they feel like it's their greatest pride and joy to be assigned on the Griffon. Well, I feel the same way."

The elevator came to a stop. Alistair stepped out and casually waved at some staff members as he led the way. "Mess hall is here. Infirmary is over there by the mess hall. The captain's office is on the other side. And of course, the endless rows of what I call 'the coffins' are over there."

"'Coffins'?" This was the first time she heard of sleeping pods being referred to as coffins.

"Don't you think they look just like coffins?"

"Now that you mention it, they do." Samantha couldn't argue with that, although it sounded too morbid for her taste.

"Lucky for you, you don't have to sleep in the coffin. Those are for the technical staff on the ship. The rest of the Wardens have our own private quarters. Instead of sleeping pods, we have bunk beds. When one snores, the rest of us will hear. Oh, the joys of brotherhood."

"But, I'm not one of the Wardens," she reminded him.

"Well... Duncan said you can stay in the Warden's quarters for now. There's no one there anyway, beside me. Maybe he knows I'm afraid to be alone in the dark," Alistair claimed jokingly. "Anyway, the bathrooms are over on the other side. The one for the women is not as crowded, not that I ever peek inside, please don't look at me like that. Beside the staff, there are no female Wardens right now."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "There are none?"

"No... Not yet anyway," said Alistair as he took a turn down the short hallway. A metal door slid open when he approached. "Welcome to our home away from home." He waved one hand to motion the spacious barracks.

Well, spacious compared to other military aircraft she had been on. A row of bunk beds on each side of the room, each looking rather comfortable. Two tables with chairs around them were placed in the center.

Walking up to the bunk beds, Samantha discreetly peeked into a random empty one. Overhead light, build-in flat screen for communication and entertainment, even the pillows looked invitingly fluffy. So the rumor about Cailan's spare-no-expense policy with the Grey Wardens might be true. No wonder General Mac Tir openly opposed the president's pet project.

Alistair stepped up next to her and with a proud smile, pressed a button nearby. A metallic screen slid down and isolated the bed. "Soundproof."

Samantha arched an eyebrow at him. "I thought you said when one of you snored, the rest would hear."

"You actually listened to what I said? Wow..." He grinned.

"You mean I shouldn't?" she asked none too seriously, hiding a faint smile.

"Oh no. I didn't mean that." His grin widened. "I'm just not used to people actually listening to my babbling."

She regarded the blond man curiously. He certainly had the body build of a soldier, but he definitely didn't behave like one. He opened the screen again and moved away.

Alistair motioned at a row of lockers. "You can use any of the empty ones." He put her bag down and took a step back as she moved to unpack. Handgun, shotgun, assault rifle, all came out of the bag and were placed inside the locker she had chosen. Alistair eyed her assault rifle with great interest, she noticed, but his attention was diverted when she pulled out a case from the bottom of her bag.

She glanced at him when she heard he made a faint 'hmm' sound. His eyes glued to the black case in her hand, his face asked the silent question. Indulging his curiosity, she turned the case to face him and popped open the double locks, then lifted up the top of case for him to peek inside.

Then came a low whistle. "Sniper?"

"It's my preference. One clean shot to the head is all you need. You are the assault rifle type, aren't you?" she asked, closing the case.

He chuckled. "That obvious, huh? Yes, I like to be front and center in the heat of the battle, and preferably still alive afterwards."

"I couldn't tell by just looking at you. But the way you looked at my assault rifle might have tipped me off." She offered him a knowing glance before she pointedly shifted her gaze at the old rifle inside the locker.

Alistair reached up to touch one side of his face in mock concern. "I didn't look like a drooling lecher, did I?"

An unexpected snicker escaped from her lips, taking herself by surprise. She composed herself instantly and pressed her lips firmly together. Still, the corners of her lips refused to be flattened. Trying hard to ignore the wide grin on his face, Samantha returned her focus back on her simple task, and put the sniper case inside the locker along with the remainder of her belongings. All military standard issue items.

"Anyway, let's go introduce you to our resident doctor," said Alistair after she was done. "Hopefully you won't be needing her service, but she's one of the best doctors out there. She's like a mother to the rest of us. Or to me, at least."

She followed the commander to the infirmary. An elder woman with her silvery hair up in an immaculate bun was sitting by the desk with her back to the door, reading from several datapads.

"Wynne?" Alistair called out.

"Yes, Alistair?" replied the doctor without turning to their visitors.

"We have a visitor," said the young commander.

The doctor put her datapad down and swung her chair around. Her piercing blue eyes set on the newcomer and immediately lit up. "Ah, Samantha! It's been a long time."

"Wynne!" Samantha broke into a warm smile and stepped forward to give the older woman a hug.

Alistair watched in surprised. "You two know each other?"

The good doctor chuckled. "I have known her since _before_ she was born. I was on the ship with the then-Commander Eleanor Cousland when she was pregnant with Sam. She was serving her last tour testing our latest battleship before her maternal leave. We were out on the Amaranthine sea when little Sam couldn't wait to come out and play, a few weeks before scheduled. So I delivered her when we couldn't make it back to the nearest port in time."

Samantha smiled fondly at the doctor. "I see you still remember that tale after twenty seven years."

Wynne feigned a stern look at the young woman. "I'm not that old yet, young lady." Her stern face quickly melted into a smile. "You were the only one I've ever delivered on a ship. The entire crew broke into the loudest cheer when they heard your cries through the intercoms all over the ship."

Alistair grinned at the tale. "So, you were quite literally born in the military?"

"Yes. Literally and figuratively. All Couslands have served." A smile still lingered on her lips.

"If you are here, Sam, it means..." Wynne trailed off.

"I am to meet with Captain Duncan at 1800 hour," said Samantha quickly. It was a plain fact, she did not want to speculate any further.

The doctor shot a questioning glance at the young man, but Alistair could only provide a helpless shrug. "Does Bryce or Eleanor know you are here?" asked the doctor.

"I sent them an email while I was on the shuttle, telling them I'll be on the Griffon for at least a week."

"A week, hm... It's good to have you here, Sam. Maybe now Alistair could find someone else to bother when he is not out on a mission." Wynne sent a mock stern glance at the young man, who shrugged all too innocently at the accusation.

"Right... Let me show you the engine room below." Alistair dragged Samantha away by her arm, leaving before the good doctor could embarrass him further. "Wait til you see our shuttle. It's not your normal military shuttlecraft. Oh, and our Mako."

"Mako?"

"It's our infantry fighting vehicle. Its armor is tough enough to withstand extreme heat and cold," Alistair explained with his eyes lit up like a child bragging about his favorite toy.

Samantha shot an eyebrow at his enthusiasm and followed him for the rest of the tour. He reminded her of a puppy her nephew had. But she knew better than to underestimate the enemies – or in this case, the ally. By making it into the elite group, there had to be something more to this young commander than meet the eyes. Perhaps, she would soon find out.

"You _are_ going to show me your guns later, right?" he asked again when they were in the elevator heading down.

Warm hazel eyes once again glanced at her expectantly. Somehow, he seemed more and more like a puppy, especially with the look he was giving her. She might regret this later, but how was one supposed to deny a puppy short of kicking it? "I am," said Samantha, meeting his gaze. She paused momentarily, then added in a light tone, "And you are going to show me yours?"

Puppy look dissipated in the blink of an eye, replaced by a sly grin. "Oh, just try to stop me..."

Samantha shook her head and turned away, hiding a smile.

Men and their toys.


	2. Liberi Fatales

Dragon Age: Origins

Another Time Another Life

A/N: Many thanks to RandomWittering and Jinx1983 for beta-ing this story. I'm trying to link not just two games, but two stories together, let's see if I can pull this off.

The title is from Final Fantasy VIII "Liberi Fatali". After consulting with my dear friend whose Latin might be a bit rusty but still has a dictionary and knows his grammar, he told me the proper form should be "Liberi Fatales" for 'children of fate', or 'fated children'.

There's one line that pays tribute to the game that introduced me to the world of many fandoms 13 years ago. Without that to start a domino effect, I'd never be here. _"You can't give up now! There ain't no getting off this train we are on!" - Barret, Final Fantasy VII._

Alistair's last line is from Casablanca.

* * *

**Chapter Two: Liberi Fatales**

* * *

"Let me be honest." Duncan regarded the lieutenant commander standing in front of his desk. "The Grey Wardens need soldiers like you. Especially during a Blight."

Samantha stood at ease with her hands folded behind the small of her back – a stance she had perfected even as a child when observing and mimicking officers on the military ships. As disciplined as she was, she couldn't stop one eyebrow arching in surprise at the last word. "A Blight, sir?"

Duncan nodded grimly and frowned in concern. "A Blight is coming. And we need every Grey Warden we can get to fight it."

"Don't we have enough military power to fight darkspawn?"

"To fight them off temporarily, yes. However, it's our job as Grey Wardens to end the Blight. I am sure you have guessed why you have been invited to the Griffon?" Duncan asked, however he didn't wait for her answer. Instead, he glanced down at his datapad. "Your reputation precedes you, Commander. You defended Highever, just four years after joining the marines."

"I didn't do it on my own, sir," Samantha immediately corrected the captain. "I was there by chance - on shore leave visiting my brother's family. Anyone from the military would've done the same. Those I fought side by side with died during the attack..." Her voice grew quiet towards the end, but she was able to recover quickly and continued, "I got the recognition because I was lucky enough to be the only one who survived when the reinforcements arrived."

"Was it because of luck or skill?" Alistair chimed in from where he leaned casually against the metal wall of Duncan's office.

"Both, Commander." She reverted to using his formal title despite what he had told her earlier, at least when they were in front of the captain. "You need both to survive when the odds are against you. Those who died defending Highever were just as skilled. They deserved the same recognition, if not more; they sacrificed themselves to protect the civilians."

"And you would have done the same, no doubt," said Duncan, who seemed to be pleased by her answer. "We Grey Wardens have a mantra: 'In war, victory; in peace, vigilance; in death, sacrifice'. You are the type of soldier we are looking for."

Samantha maintained a stoic front despite the undercurrent she was feeling inside. Never in her life had she entertained the thought of being a Grey Warden. But then again, never had she thought she would ever be seen as a hero either. Without that trip back to Highever to visit Fergus, she would never have received the Star of Thedas, and Duncan might never have taken notice of her. But, she would never have lost _him_ either.

If she believed in fate at all, she would have surmised that it was all meant to be. But Samantha Cousland was never one to believe in fate.

"Before you could join us, there is a test you'd have to pass," informed Duncan. "I'll not lie to you. This test is dangerous."

"Are you sending me to fight a group of darkspawn?"

"You will face a few darkspawn, yes. But we are not testing to see how well you can shoot; we have no doubt of your skills. Instead, this test will measure your mental strength. It is called the Joining. Some recruits have failed in the past."

She didn't like the look on Duncan's face. "Failed... As in injured?"

"Death, if lucky. Most became comatose." The captain's lips pressed into a thin line.

She drew a sharp breath at his blunt honesty.

"The Grey Wardens are not only skilled in battle, but we are also mentally stronger than everyone in the military. Those who join us need to have strong minds, for reasons you will find out once should you pass the test. The Joining is the way to separate those who have what it takes to be Grey Wardens, and those who are just skilled soldiers."

Samantha remained completely still as she digested the information. She had never heard of the Joining before, perhaps this information was above her clearance level. But, somehow, she suspected it had more to do with the danger of this Joining, that the Grey Wardens would certainly not want anyone to know until the last minute, when a recruit was sent to be tested.

"This is strictly on a need-to-know basis," she stated more than asked.

"Yes."

Samantha realized the implications of being informed: she had no choice but to accept.

There was no getting off this train, so to speak, or this aircraft in her case, so she might as well face the challenge like a Cousland. Although that was much easier said than done. Perhaps the luck she'd had in Highever would come back to her and get her through another tight spot. Somehow she doubted it. Luck had little to do with her survival. She was standing here because of her knight in tarnished armor, but he had been gone, since that fateful day five years ago. Samantha took a deep breath to steel herself and quiet her thoughts.

"When do I start?" she asked with an even voice.

"Tomorrow morning, we'll drop you off at a location called Korcari Wilds. Alistair will accompany you, and I'll be here to monitor your progress."

Samantha nodded crisply. "What time?"

"Anytime when you are ready. We are not as strict as the military. We are a special unit operating outside the normal chain of command; standard protocols don't apply within our Order. Because of the test we have all faced and passed, we are a family. And I look forward to having you join us. For now, I suggest you get some rest."

"Captain." Out of habit and respect for the leader of the Grey Wardens, Samantha snapped a sharp salute before she turned and exited Duncan's office. But her perfectly poised facade cracked the moment she heard the door sliding close behind her; her shoulders slumped wearily as she dropped her face onto her hands, a heavy sigh she had been holding finally escaped.

* * *

Standing in front of the hot beverage dispenser in the mess hall, Samantha stared blankly at the buttons on the machine. What sort of 'test' could fry a human brain? Her mind raced at the endless possibilities of what this Joining could be. She wasn't afraid of physical injuries; she'd had more than her share after joining the marines. But to be comatose, that thought alone was enough to send chills down her spine.

Duncan was right, death would be a more merciful outcome than being forever incapacitated.

"You know, our machines don't have the technology to read our minds just yet. You still need to press a button if you want coffee," a voice announced from behind her, catching her by surprise. It was Alistair.

She chided herself for being so lost in her own thoughts, that she didn't even hear his footsteps when he was approaching. Such a mistake on a battlefield could be costly.

Shaking her head to clear her mind, she willed herself to focus on the simple task in front of her. Her finger automatically hovered above the 'coffee' button, but she decided against it as her eyes landed on another selection. Right now, she needed some good old fashioned comfort food, one which happened to be one of her favorites. She pressed that button instead.

"Hot chocolate. My favorite. But don't tell anyone, I have a reputation to keep. Let them think I love my coffee black and strong, while what I secretly have inside my mug is smooth and sweet." Alistair gave her a look over. "You don't seem the hot chocolate type, though."

She knew the friendly commander was trying to ease her mind, his distraction was indeed a welcome break. Wrapping both her hands around the thermal mug, she blew some air on the hot liquid surface. "I'm full of surprises."

"I can't wait to find out more, then," he replied with a friendly chuckle, then went to get himself a cup as well.

"This... Joining, how much can you tell me?" she asked as she sat down by a small table. She noticed his back tense at the question, and he deliberately took his time to take his drink from the machine. Whatever the Joining was, it couldn't be good.

"Well... I wish I could tell you, but..." he trailed off and took a seat across from her, but avoiding her eyes.

"It's on a need-to-know basis," she finished the sentence for him.

He set his mug down and rubbed the back of his neck. "There's nothing I could tell you that'd help you to prepare for it, even _if_ I could tell you, that is. It's... different than all the drills and performance tests they have in the military. It's not... pleasant, at least it wasn't for me. And I don't envy that you have to go through it. But it's absolutely necessary, trust me."

Her gaze dropped down to her mug and she remained quiet in deep thought.

"Well, you just passed the special ops training test, didn't you?" She raised an eyebrow at him, surprised by his knowledge. But he continued quickly before she could even asked the obvious question, "I read your profile. I passed the same test last year."

"You were in special ops too?"

"For a week!" He flashed a small grin. "Then Duncan swooped in and plucked me out of the program. The director was pissed! But there's nothing he could do to the captain. The Grey Wardens can recruit whoever they want. That didn't stop the director from yelling though. It pissed him off even more when Duncan remained all calm and collected." He chuckled at the memories. "I never really liked the director, so I wasn't too sad to go. I'd imagine his fuse was blown once again when the captain asked for you."

"Perhaps it's a good thing I was in Orlais when I got the news."

"Well, you missed the show!" His grin broadened.

Samantha smiled politely at that.

"Anyway, I'm sure you still remember that special ops test, don't you?"

"That was only three weeks ago, although I wish I could forget about it."

"I don't blame you. It was gruesome, right? Both mentally and physically." He exchanged a knowing glance with her. "But the Joining is... not the same kind of test, it only tests your mental strength... sort of. And it's not the kind that'd see if you could withstand interrogation either. I really don't know how else to explain it without spelling it out..." He peered at her tentatively as he rubbed the back of his neck again. "I'm making it worse, aren't I?"

Even though he didn't tell her much that would settle her nerves, she appreciated the commander's effort. She took a subtle long breath in an attempt to clear her mind.

"I'll be fine," she declared firmly for his sake, wishing she could she truly believed in her own words.

"That's the spirit!" He flashed her a friendly smile, seemingly relieved that she didn't press him.

Raising her mug to her lips, she sought comfort in the hot drink when words failed to calm her frayed nerves. He leaned forward and observed closely as she took a sip of the hot cocoa, as if he was anticipating a response.

When the hot liquid coated her taste buds, she paused and blinked in surprise. The smoothness and richness of the chocolate wasn't what she had expected; it was certainly not the military standard watered-down, chocolate-colored, chemical-powdered drink. She took another sip to confirm the taste wasn't a fragment of her imagination, and almost burned her tongue due to her eagerness. It tasted just as sweet and smooth as the first sip, reminding her of the hot chocolate her mother used to make for them during winter. Her lips curled up in delight.

"It's good, isn't it?" Alistair asked with a knowing grin. "I asked to have the original hot chocolate powder changed to this new one as soon as I'd had a cup of the old one. It was just some hot brown-colored water with sugar in it. I guess because none of the other Wardens drink hot chocolate, they didn't know just how bad it was until I came here."

"You have fine taste," Samantha admitted with another sip.

"In chocolate and cheeses. Especially cheeses." He raised his mug to enjoy his own success.

"You have been with the Wardens for less than a year then?"

He nodded. "I was the newest here until you came along."

"I am not one of the Wardens, yet," she reminded him.

"Oh, you will be by tomorrow. You'll pass the Joining."

"I appreciate your vote of confidence, but I'm afraid it'll take more than that to pass the Joining."

He stared straight at her for a second, then shrugged with a smile. "Call it a hunch."

"A hunch?"

"Well, yes." He looked as though he was about to explain further, but instead he shook his head in dismissal. "Never mind that. So are you still going to show me your weapon collection?"

His almost relentless distraction was more than welcomed, and in fact, very much needed, or else her mind might just spin out of control with the endless and rather pointless speculation of the Joining. Samantha nodded with a hint of smile. "Sure. If you're really interested."

"Oh, I am. If you don't show me, I might have to break into your locker and check them out myself." He chuckled, then raised both hands up in mock surrender when Samantha arched one brow up at his bold statement. "Kidding. Just kidding. Don't hit me, I bruise easily," he claimed jokingly.

"If I did hit you, bruising would be the least of your concerns." The hint of smile on her face blossomed into a small grin.

"You would hit _me_?" He let out a dramatic gasp. "I'm shocked and dismayed! So disappointed in you, Commander Cousland." The teasing grin on his face said otherwise.

She dipped her head in feigned seriousness. "Then perhaps Commander Theirin would accept my apology by allowing me to show him my gun collection."

Alistair's grin broadened and pushed himself off the chair immediately. "What are we waiting for?"

Samantha rolled her eyes slightly but allowed a small chuckle to escape. Taking her mug with her, she led the way back to the barracks, with the young commander trailing closely behind like an eager puppy waiting for his treats.

Setting her hot chocolate aside, she retrieved her guns from the locker and laid them all out on the table. Alistair's face lit up like a kid in a candy store. From the way he'd had his eyes glued on her assault rifle earlier, she wasn't surprised to see him pick that up first. Still, it felt more than a bit strange to see someone else holding that particular gun.

"Hm... Interesting choice. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me earlier." He flipped the weapon back and forth to examine both sides. Scratches on the surface told the stories of the battles it had been through. "This is an older model: M-8. It's a few years old now. I thought the marines have upgraded to M-15."

"They have. But I like this one..." she trailed off with a pause. "It's my lucky charm. I don't use this gun often."

Alistair nodded understandingly; after all it's not uncommon for soldiers to have lucky charms. "It's tough, easy to use, easy to upgrade, but recoiling might be a bit of a problem. The Targeting VI upgrade would reduce the bullet spread, making it almost on par with M-15," he suggested casually as he tested the rifle's weight in his hands.

She nodded, rather impressed by his knowledge of weapons. Not wanting to upgrade her assault rifle in any shape or form, she carefully diverted his attention in a form of question. "What type of rifle do you use?"

"Oh, me? M-76," he answered nonchalantly as he held her gun up as if to aim with it.

"Revenant?" She almost choked in surprise, sky blue eyes widened, staring at him. M-76 was very deadly, very rare, and very, very expensive. It's said only the richest and most powerful warlords could afford that weapon.

"Don't look at me like that. I didn't buy it," said Alistair as he carefully put down Samantha's humble old weapon. "It was given to me as a gift after I joined the Wardens."

Whoever gave him that gift had to be very rich and powerful. _Theirin... The president himself?_

"You're lucky to have someone care for you so much to give you that weapon."

"Hmph, don't I feel lucky." He snorted. Sarcasm dripped in his voice as his face turned sour. But Alistair quickly reverted back to his friendly self, and eyed the black case on the table. "Care to show me your sniper rifle?"

Side-stepping the topic he obviously wanted to avoid, Samantha obliged and opened her sniper case. Alistair leaned over her shoulder to peek at the disassembled gun inside the padded case.

"M-92 Mantis..." Alistair whistled faintly and raised an eyebrow at her. "Someone has a deep pocket as well."

"Don't look at me like that, I didn't buy it," she repeated his words. "My brother gave it to me."

They shared a knowing smile.

"Mind if I assemble it?" he asked with a grin.

She had only let a handful of people touch her precious M-92. Yet somehow she couldn't find it in herself to deny his request. She blamed it on his eager puppy face. "Suit yourself."

She stepped aside and let Alistair have the case. Again, she was pleasantly surprise by how fast he could assemble a gun that wasn't his. She had to remind herself that he had passed both the special ops training and the Joining - whatever that test was. Perhaps his puppy look was just a front to throw people off guard. If so, he had done a great job.

"We should go to target practice together," he suggested as he held the sniper rifle up and peeked through its scope.

"You have a practice room here?"

He laughed. "No, but I wish we had one! Duncan would kill us if we started practice shooting here. I should take you to this shooting range in Denerim, just to see how far you can snipe off your target's head with this gun." He flicked a switch, parts of the sniper rifle retracted and the gun turned into a smaller and more portable form.

"Sure, if I survive the Joining, why not?"

He disassembled the sniper rifle and carefully put each piece back into the padded case. Sparing her a glance amidst his precise movements, he smiled warmly. "Oh, you'll be fine. Trust me."

If only she had that certainty.

* * *

Hot water rained down on her in the shower. Her muscles were relaxed but her mind was racing. Apart from the moments when Alistair had tried hard to keep her distracted, her mind had been occupied by the Joining, or to be more precise, the consequences of failing

She jammed a button in frustration to stop the running water. Standing there, naked and dripping wet, Samantha slammed her forehead against the wall of the shower stall. Just yesterday, she had been enjoying a bubble bath in a hotel room in Val Royeaux as the newest special op agent, taking one last shore leave before reporting for duty. Now, she was standing in a shower stall on the legendary Griffon as the latest Grey Warden recruit, waiting to seal her fate tomorrow.

What a difference a day made.

By this time tomorrow, she would either be standing tall as a Warden, or lying down forever.

There were probably many things she needed to take care of should the latter scenario play out. But among them, only one stood out in her mind right now - she had to say goodbye to her family, either for tonight or for forever.

Samantha grabbed a towel to dry herself. Her body shivered involuntarily, not from cold - the steam left over from the hot water was enough to make her sweat - but from fear. Fear of the unknown, the uncertainty, and fear of the end of her existence.

She had been on dangerous missions too many times before, where the price of failure was often death. But never had she been on a mission which she could not fight with her guns or her wits, and death would be her preferred price to pay for failure.

She put on a tank top and loose pants, then combed through her long hair. She needed to find her anchor - a source of her strength - and she needed to find it soon.

Going back to the living quarters, Samantha was relieved to find them empty. She sat in front of a computer and stared blankly at the keyboard for the longest time. What could she possibly say to her parents and Fergus? That she might die tomorrow? Or that they had to take care of her if she never woke up? Her brows knotted tightly.

Perhaps what she needed most was to see their faces and hear their voices. Yes, it was all she wanted. She took a deep breath and established connections to Highever and Denerim simultaneously, forcing her facial muscles to relax and smile.

"Hello, little sis!" Fergus' image popped up on screen.

Then came the image of Eleanor Cousland next to Fergus' window. "Sammy darling! I was just talking to your brother."

"Mom, Fergus," Samantha greeted with the corners of her lips curled up even more. "Where's dad? And Oren?"

"Your father is out with Eamon. The Guerrins are in town," said Eleanor with a frown of disapproval. Samantha wisely stayed away from the topic. Her mother had never liked Eamon's wife, she knew that much. 'Orlesian Wallflower' was the nickname Eleanor had so kindly given to Mrs. Guerrin, in private of course.

Fergus turned away from the screen. "Oren! Come here and say hi to your Auntie Sammy."

A boy soon bounced in, inserting his head between the camera and his father. With a huge grin and a wave, he greeted, "Hello Auntie Sammy! When are you going to teach me how to shoot a gun?" He then shot a look at the other user on his monitor. "Oh, hi Grandma!"

The smile plastered on Samantha's face turned into genuine grin. "You have to ask your mom first."

A feminine voice was heard. "Um... My answer is still no." Oriana's kind face briefly popped in behind Fergus' shoulder and gave Samantha a wink before ushering her son away. "Time for bed."

The youngest member of the Cousland family could be heard whining as he was led away. Fergus turned his attention from his wife and son back to his mother and sister. "So, our little Sammy is going to be a Grey Warden."

"Not yet. I have to pass this... test tomorrow."

"Oh, you'll be fine." Fergus waved a hand of dismissal. "You just passed the special ops one, can't be worse than that."

She pulled a smile for her brother. "We'll see..."

"Oren's excited to have a Warden auntie."

Eleanor sighed dramatically, demanding attention from both of her children. "I can't say I'm excited to have a Warden daughter."

Samantha could sense the direction of this conversation and chose not to comment. The look on Fergus' face told her he knew exact what their mother meant, yet he played innocent. "You're not? How come?"

It was all the encouragement Eleanor needed. "First it was special ops, now it's the Wardens. When are you going to find someone and settle down, Sam?"

Samantha grimaced and leaned back on the chair, trying to put a distance between herself and the monitor. "Mom..."

"I'm not telling you to quit your career. But, darling, you're twenty-seven already. When I was your age, I was carrying Fergus while still on active duty."

Fergus didn't even bother to hold back a snicker. Samantha breathed out a weary sigh.

Eleanor continued, "I don't want a Warden daughter, I just want my little girl to get married and give me some grandkids."

"Get Fergus to give you some more," Samantha suggested sarcastically without missing a beat.

A mischievous grin spread across her brother's face. "How do you know I'm not trying?"

"Maker's breath! Stop! I don't want to know!" Samantha recoiled in disgust, only to make Fergus laugh even louder.

"Stop it, the two of you!" ordered their mother. "For Andraste's sake, Sammy, you're not even seeing anyone. Maybe I should introduce you to some nice young men-"

"How do you know I'm not seeing anyone?" Samantha cut her mother off before Eleanor could embarrass her further.

Fergus chuckled. "Our Admiral Eleanor Cousland has eyes and ears all over the military. If you're dating someone, mom'd be the first to know."

Eleanor didn't bother to deny it.

"Maybe I'm dating a civilian," she countered defiantly with a snort.

Fergus laughed at that, as if it was the funniest joke. "An average civilian can't tame our Lady Cousland."

Samantha winced at the nickname, one derived from her fairy tale obsession when she was a child. "Fraternizing isn't the smartest thing to do in the military," she reasoned, trying to avoid the real reason for her lackluster love life. But the second those words flew out of her mouth, she immediately regretted it. _It didn't stop you years ago, _a voice inside her head bluntly reminded her.

Thankfully, Fergus didn't pursue the topic, but she didn't miss the knowing look he was giving her.

"I met your father on the battlefield," Eleanor reminded her daughter. "When love comes at you, even the Maker can't stop it. Look, darling, we just want you to find someone who'd make you happy."

"I'm happy enough..."

"Are you?" asked Fergus with an arch of his eyebrow. Damn him and his knowing look, even through the monitor.

"I don't need a man to make me happy." The door to the room slid open just when she started the sentence and Alistair stepped in. The words had already flown out of her mouth before she could stop herself. She prayed fervently that he didn't overhear her declaration, but his quiet chuckle indicated otherwise. Shutting her eyes briefly, Samantha tried hard to will away the embarrassment and the heat on her cheeks. In front of her, the ever so observant Fergus was curious about his sister's sudden change; behind her, Alistair was approaching.

"You'll change your tune when you meet the right man, mark my words," said Fergus rather loudly, as he tried hard to peek behind his sister's back.

Samantha wanted nothing more than to dig a hole and hide.

"I've got to go, early day tomorrow." She hastily ended the conversation after bidding her brother and mother goodnight. It wasn't until she had disconnected that she remembered it might just have been their last conversation, if she failed the Joining tomorrow.

Breathing in one long breath, Samantha carefully composed herself before turning away from the computer. Much to her relief, she found Alistair lounging in a chair by the table, staring at a datapad rather intently.

"Mission briefing for tomorrow?" she asked casually, hoping to start a topic before he could bring up the one he'd had the misfortune to overhear.

He glanced up with a mischievous smile. "Why, yes. I'm that hard working. No, it's a..." He coughed a bit uncomfortably. "Well, it's a novel, actually."

She raised an eyebrow at that. He didn't seem the bookish type.

"It's pretty interesting! A best seller," he defended his choice of reading. "It's about the fifth Blight-"

"The Prince and the Rose?" Her eyebrow arched higher in surprise. "I'm reading that book, too."

"You are?" He beamed in delight.

She shrugged, mildly embarrassed. "I wouldn't have picked up that book judging by the title. My brother's wife recommended it to me. At first I thought it was one of her romance novels, I'm glad it's not."

"Maker, no! It's not a romance novel!" He gave a mock shudder. "It's about war and survival. So, how far have you gotten? Be careful with the spoilers! Please!"

She did feel a little bit awkward discussing her secret hobby, but what's the harm in that? "Alexander just told Elisabeth about his past."

"Oh! The Prince thing." Alistair nodded knowingly. "He was so awkward, don't you think? Good thing Elisa was understanding."

"What else could he have done? It was a secret he had been told to keep since he was a child." Samantha didn't miss that none too subtle grin of amusement, but she pointedly ignored it. Instead, she continued to defend the fictional prince, "Besides, he was still very much in shock after losing everyone in one battle."

He paused for a second before he asked, "Tell me, what would you have done if you were Elisa? If your partner told you he's a prince?"

She tilted her head to think briefly, then shrugged. "Nothing. Alex is the same man he was before, whoever his father was shouldn't matter."

There was a look in his eyes she couldn't quite place, almost thoughtful, but it was gone with a blink as a teasing smile spread across his face. "I thought girls like dashing princes."

He could _not _have known, but Samantha felt as if part of her deepest secret had been revealed - her childhood love for old fairy tales. She managed to keep her composure, only her slightly burning cheeks betrayed her. "Some do, not all." It wasn't a lie. Still, Samantha took charge to change the subject before he could ask further. "Where are you in the story?" She tossed a glance at the discarded datapad on the table.

"Well, I'm ahead of you, not by much. I've just finished reading the Battle of Redcliffe."

"Against the undead?"

"Crazy, right? There's no such thing as undead. But I guess that's what makes this good fiction."

She looked contemplative. "There's no mention of the Joining in the story. When they joined the Wardens, they only took a vow."

Alistair laughed. "Of course not. I doubt the author knows about it. What could the book version of the Joining be anyway? Drink some blood?"

Samantha smiled at that. "Do I have to drink blood tomorrow?"

"No!" He looked appalled by the idea. "It's not sanitized, beside I doubt it'd taste good."

"Whatever the Joining is, drinking blood would be more pleasant, right?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but shut it before words came out. "Are you trying to trick me into telling you about the Joining?" A quirk at the corner of her lips was her response. "Sneaky. I'm onto you now..."

She slumped down into a chair across from him and breathed out a heavy sigh. "How did you do it? Get through the night before your Joining."

Warm hazel eyes stared into sky blue ones. "I got drunk."

It took her more than a second to see the twinkles hidden in his eyes. "No, you didn't."

He laughed. "Of course not. Duncan would have kicked my ass if I did." He studied her briefly then turned serious. "Look, I don't know why, but I have a feeling you'll be fine."

"A hunch," she repeated from their earlier conversation.

"I don't know what else to call it." He shrugged helplessly. "Duncan chose you, among all the potential recruits for a reason. If he didn't think you have what it takes to pass the Joining, he wouldn't have chosen you. Duncan has access to everyone in the military, and he can take whoever he wants. But he only picks the best of the best."

Samantha couldn't help but feel a surge of pride rising up inside her. Being chosen was indeed an honor; if the captain had enough faith in her to pass the test, one that he himself had taken as well, she shouldn't doubt herself so much. Besides, the man in front of her had gone through the same training as she had, if Alistair could pass, she had a very good chance to follow in his footsteps.

"I'll be fine," she said, repeating the very same words she had used earlier. But this time, the doubt in her voice was gone. "You still have to take me to the shooting range after the Joining," she reminded him lightly.

"You do remember things I said! I could get used to this..." A wide grin spread across his face. "Well, who am I to stand in the way of a girl and her guns? Actually, remind me never to stand in the way, it sounds painful!"

Samantha snorted in amusement despite herself. His presence had calmed her nerves more than he'd ever know, more than she'd ever admit. She pushed herself up from the chair and took a long breath. Right now, all she could do was to get a good nights sleep before tomorrow's challenge.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

She could have easily answered truthfully. But as they exchanged a glance, there was something that told her he understood her, even without words. "For not spoiling me on the outcome of the Redcliffe battle."

He laughed. "For now. Oh, I could think of a lot of other ways to spoil you."

Not wanting to read too much into his jokes, Samantha merely gave him a gentle smile. "Goodnight, Alistair," she said, then froze when she suddenly had the strangest feeling that she'd said this before.

"I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Recovering her wits instantly, she retorted, "Don't get your hopes up." Samantha hid a smile rather unsuccessfully as she headed for her bunk, leaving Alistair spluttering with laughter.


	3. The Joining

Dragon Age: Origins

Another Time, Another Life

A/N: A big thank you to Jinx1983 and RandomWittering for beta-ing this chapter. Thank you to all of you who have added this little story to your alert or favorite list, it's always nice to know there are readers out there. Thank you all for reading, enjoy.

Alistair's armor is based on Louvette's fanart called "Just Like Old Times". I'd like to thank her for her permission to use her design in here. I moved the griffon insignia from his right shoulder to his chest.

* * *

**Chapter Three: The Joining**

* * *

This was her second shuttle ride within the past twenty four hours. The shuttle she was taking right now, however, was more advanced and spacious than the last one. The seats were nicely padded, the cabin was quiet, even the windows were larger than those in the standard shuttles that she was used to. This luxury transportation was not military standard by any means. It belonged to the famous Grey Wardens. And President Theirin – the biggest supporter of the Order – was known to have a spare-no-expense policy when it came to this special independent military division.

As warm and inviting as the sunlight outside the window was, Samantha was paying little attention to the view. Right now, her focus was devoted to one single task: examining her weapons before the mission started. She checked her assault rifle for the second time; all thermal clips were loaded to the maximum capacity. Also fully loaded were her sniper rifle, handgun, and shotgun - all of which she had already examined during the shuttle ride. Spending the last few minutes rechecking her weapons before missions was a habit of hers, one that had developed under the strong recommendation from her drill sergeant. It provided a sufficient distraction to calm the anticipation, all while taking the last effort to make sure the weapons would work perfectly. Yet for this particular mission, she needed more than repeating physical tasks to soothe her nerves.

Her companion had been quietly observing her since the beginning of the ride. He understood the anxiety she was going through, for he had gone through the exact same test himself less than a year ago. And he had survived.

Alistair leaned back and glanced at the gun in the hands of the woman sitting across from him. "I thought the M-92 was your favorite," he said casually, breaking the silence between them.

Samantha started slightly and looked at him. She had been so focused on her tasks that she had almost forgotten she wasn't alone in the shuttle. "I prefer my sniper rifle yes, but this one has been with me for the longest time," she explained, motioning to the gun in her hand.

"Right, you said it's your lucky charm." He nodded understandingly. "Let me guess: your first assault rifle?"

Her lips curled up, but her gaze dropped. "No. I have it since the incident in Highever."

"I... see."

She was thankful that he didn't pursue the topic further. The last thing she needed right now was to relive those two days of her life.

"Tell me, have you encountered darkspawn before?" he asked, changing the topic wisely.

She blinked to compose herself then shook her head. "No, I haven't."

A scowl spread across his friendly face. "When I fought my first one, I wasn't prepared for how monstrous it was. I can't say I'm looking forward to encountering another."

"But they can be killed," Samantha rationalized.

"Oh yes, of course they can be killed. But they are not the... usual enemies we've seen. They aren't exactly organic creatures, but they're not machines either."

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "So, what are they?"

There was a hesitation before he answered, "They're half-half."

She tilted her head sideways and considered his words for a brief moment, trying to make sense of it. "If they are organic creatures, they procreate. If they are mechanical, someone has to make them. But if they are half biological, half mechanic, how do they multiply? And who made them?"

Alistair opened his mouth to answer, but shut it just as quickly. "You should ask Duncan those questions. I only know what little he's told me. Anyway, you'll know more by the end of the day, trust me. I have to warn you though, our captain is notorious in keeping information from us until the last possible moment. You can ask all you want, but if he doesn't want to tell you yet, you'll get nothing from him."

"In other words: he's a typical commanding officer."

Alistair chuckled. "In that sense, he is. He's been with the Grey Wardens since before I was born. If you want to know anything about darkspawn, he's the one to ask."

"You know him well," Samantha observed.

"He's a... family friend, of sorts."

Samantha noticed his hesitation with the word 'family', but she respected his privacy and chose not to push the topic further. She too, didn't like to mention her parents much either, and it certainly was not because she wasn't proud of them. She had been overshadowed her whole life by both Admirals Couslands, always being seen as their daughter instead of lieutenant commander in her own right, a rank she had worked hard to earn. If President Theirin was indeed his family, Alistair would certainly have a hard time coming out of Cailan's shadow.

She gave him a faint understanding smile, then changed the subject casually, returning the courtesy he had just shown her a moment ago. "Your armor is pretty unique. I've never seen anything like that in the military."

"Oh, this? You haven't met our armory master yet, have you?"

"The armory wasn't included in the tour yesterday," she reminded him.

"Right. I skipped him on purpose. You see, he's a brilliant armor and weapon smith – or master as he would like to be called, absolutely the best in Ferelden. But he's also more than a bit... eccentric. He hates it when people go and interrupt him. He makes a custom set of armor for each Warden based on our unique combat style. Mine, he made to increase my storm speed and shield strength. And there are some additional neat tricks my suits can do."

"What kind of tricks?"

"Biotic barrier, strength and endurance augmentation, to name a few. I don't even know how it works, just know it does."

"This level of quality is not what we get to see in the marines. Not even in the special forces. Definitely not in those colors." Her head tilted towards the red and white armor of his with a friendly smile. The famous blue griffon insignia glowed faintly on his chest.

"Well, he chose all the colors for us too. He said the last thing he wanted was the darkspawn pointing at us and laughing at how ugly our armor looked, just before we killed them. He demanded us all to 'look fabulous' on the field." He chuckled with a roll of his eyes. "I told you he's eccentric. You'll see for yourself."

_If I make it back alive..._ She shoved that thought away and nodded with approval. "He has good taste. It looks good on you."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I- er..." He flashed a bashful grin and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. A brief glance out of the window saved him from further embarrassment. "Well, here we are, the Korcari Wilds. Nothing has changed since last year. Or since... forever."

Samantha peeked out and saw a dense patch of greenery zooming in closer and closer as the shuttle prepared for landing. She was surprised to see this huge expansion of dense forest still preserved in this day and age, it was as if the entire area had been sealed off from the touch of civilization.

"Somewhere in the middle of the forest, the darkspawn gather and multiply by the thousands."

"If we can locate them, we can drop a bomb and be done with it," she suggested.

Alistair looked amused by her idea. "Have you dealt with pests before? Like ants and cockroaches?"

She shook her head. "Can't say I have. I spent a good part of my life on military ships; things were taken care of for us."

"Ah, of course... You see, even if you think you've bombed the ant colony, there would always be some that got away. Maybe they ran fast, maybe they weren't at home when you bombed them. Either way, they'd just form another colony in no time, but this time, they'd adapt to survive. One generation smarter than the previous one. You can't kill all of them, they'll keep coming back. Just like the darkspawn."

"I thought killing the archdemon will stop the Blight. At least that's what history says."

"True. But the Blight comes back every several centuries. Just like those pesky ants. They scatter and regroup, waiting for the next perfect chance to strike."

"And the archdemon?"

"It's their leader. The darkspawn will not strike until they have an archdemon. It probably takes them centuries to find the next leader, but when they do, they strike, and we have ourselves another Blight."

"Is the archdemon also half biological half mechanical then?"

"Hm... I couldn't tell from looking at it for a few sec-" he stopped abruptly.

"You've seen it?" Samantha stared at him, eyes wide.

"Er... Not really..." The shuttle came to a stop, saving him from further explanation. "Look, don't think too much. You'll know soon enough. For now, just focus on the task and follow me to the site." He handed her a visor from a nearby compartment. "Use this for now, we'll get you your own custom one once we're done here. It'll improve your eyesight and maintain communication with me and the ship. Who knows, you might even triple your sniping distance while wearing that," he said jokingly while putting on his own visor, his M-76 assault rifle casually held in his hand.

Samantha was nothing if not a good soldier; she knew when to shut up and follow orders. She put on the new equipment dutifully and followed Alistair off the shuttle. The ground was soft, covered with dirt and thick grass. It was quite a foreign feeling to step on it.

"Alistair to Griffon. We've landed."

"Proceed to the site, Alistair," Duncan's voice was heard through their earpieces. "And be careful."

"Aye aye, captain." He turned to his charge and offered her a friendly smile. "Come on, let's get this pesky test over with. You'll do fine."

Samantha nodded and followed the commander. Whatever the Joining was, she had no other choice but to face it.

* * *

The Korcari Wilds was a curious place. Never before had she seen so many trees in one area. The air was the freshest she had ever breathed in, even a top-of-the-line air filter couldn't produce this crisp and freshness. It was nature at its best, she supposed.

The forest was oddly serene and peaceful - too peaceful to be true. Her eyes darted about vigilantly but couldn't spot any creatures. It was as though the entire world had gone and left the two of them behind in this isolated wilderness.

"Peaceful, isn't it?" Alistair started a casual conversation to ease her nerves.

Samantha nodded. "It feels like we are trapped in another time. Perhaps even another century."

"That's exactly what I thought when I was here last year. It's like we are walking inside a time capsule."

"It sure is well-preserved. Practically untouched by technology."

"Well... I wouldn't say it so soon." He paused uncomfortably for a second. "It is a restricted area."

She arched an eyebrow at that. "So no one besides the Wardens are allowed in the Wilds?"

"Centuries ago there were these group of wild people called the Chasind who lived in the Wilds. But if they have somehow survived all these years, there's been no official report of seeing them."

She was able to read between the lines. "And unofficial ones?"

He chuckled. "There are always rumors, aren't there?" He took a turn at a forked path and moved up to the higher part of the hill.

"Such as?"

Glancing at her with a raised eyebrow and a mysterious smile, he leaned down towards her and lowered his voice as if he was sharing a top secret. "Rumor has it there's a crazy old woman living somewhere in the Wilds, that her biotic power is insanely powerful."

She couldn't quite contain a snort as she asked skeptically, "An old biotic surviving all by herself out here without supplies? Living among the darkspawn?"

"Hey, don't question rumors, or you'd spoil all the fun," he chided with a teasing grin. Alistair was about to continue, but something caught his attention. His grin evaporated and turned into a frown. "Darkspawn. Take cover." He pointed her to a nearby tree and took cover himself in the opposite direction.

Samantha dashed behind the tree and pulled out her sniper rifle to scout the surrounding with its scope, she took a sharp breath when she spotted the darkspawn. Alistair was right about them. They looked nothing like anything she had ever seen; it's as if they were some twisted combination of undead decayed humans but with mechanical parts, and they were _hideous_. Samantha took a deep breath to calm the chill creeping up her spine. No matter how they looked, she only had to keep one thing in mind: they could be killed.

"How many?" Alistair's voice came through to her earpiece.

"Four. Two at your two-o-clock. Two of them further away. They haven't spotted us. I can take out the closest one before they detect us. Your order?"

"Sounds like a fine plan. Let's do it!"

With her target locked on, Samantha pulled the trigger and watched through the scope as the bullet hit the darkspawn right through the head. One down, three to go. "They're scanning for us!"

"Take down the furthest two!" Alistair peeked out from his cover and started shooting at the nearest darkspawn.

Samantha aimed at one of the furthest monsters rushing to their direction. She had a love and hate relationship with moving targets. She hated the fact that they were harder to aim, but absolutely loved the challenge.

"Come on..." she muttered under her breath, waiting for her chance.

And there was her clear shot. She pulled the trigger, hitting it right in its head. Without taking the time to congratulate herself, she shifted the gun to aim at the last darkspawn. But the sound of gunshots interrupted her plan. From the scope, she watched as her target dropped dead on the ground, courtesy of Alistair's assault rifle. Samantha came out from her cover and joined the commander.

"Nice shot," said Alistair, indicating the darkspawn with a single bullet hole in its head.

"And you were fast." She returned the compliment, gesturing the distance he had covered within seconds.

"Oh, I had enough practice as a kid."

She looked at him questioningly.

He flashed a sly grin. "Don't let my innocent look fool you, I was quite the trouble maker when I was young. Running away before anyone caught me was my survival skill."

She couldn't help but snicker at the mental image of a young Alistair dashing away from the trouble he'd caused.

He seemed more than pleased that his antics got a reaction from her. "But, of course, it's not just my intensive childhood training. It's my suit, and enhancements courtesy of the Grey Wardens after I joined them."

"Enhancements?" She frowned mildly in confusion.

"Physically and mentally, we are all enhanced through surgery."

"They performed brain surgery on you too?" She shot him an incredulous glance.

"Well, not exactly..." He paused, with an almost apologetic look on his face. "You'll see in a moment. With this particular enhancement, I was able to detect the darkspawn just now."

There it was, once again his puppy face surfaced. Samantha didn't have the heart to push him for an answer. "So that's how you knew they were around before we could even see them."

"My Grey Warden sense tingled, that's all. Nothing mysterious about it!" He shrugged with a wide grin. But when her eyes met his, she could see the gratitude in them, silently thanking her for not pursuing the subject. "Come on, it's just up the hill. We're almost there."

Samantha followed him up on a narrow path and noticed the talkative commander grew quiet as they approached closer to the peak. Whatever it was waiting for her at the top of the hill had to be either very important or very deadly.

Or both.

When they reached the top of the hill, she saw nothing but a giant metal rod in the middle of the clearing. It looked almost like a huge antenna, one that was about three-stories high. She took a curious step closer to it, but was stopped by Alistair's hand on her shoulder. "What?" she asked.

Instead of answering her, he tapped a button on his earpiece. "Alistair to Griffon. We are in position."

"At last we come to the Joining." Duncan's voice came through once again. "Before you stands the most important piece of technology that will help us defeat the Blight. It is one of several beacons the archdemon uses to communicate with the darkspawn. By approaching the beacon, you will establish a mental link with both the darkspawn and the archdemon. With this link, you will know about their tactics and their whereabouts. This is the source of our power and our victory."

_What in the Maker's name? Mental link with the darkspawn AND the archdemon?_ To say she was caught off-guard by the truth of the Joining would be an understatement. The notoriously poised Commander Cousland couldn't even hide her deer-in-headlight look when she turned to Alistair, seeking confirmation all while desperately hoping for a denial.

Alistair nodded to confirm. He held her gaze and added, "Those who survive the Joining become immune to the darkspawn's control. We can sense the darkspawn and use it to kill the archdemon."

Duncan continued, "Not all who approach the beacon will survive, and those who do are forever changed. This is why the Joining is a secret. It is a price we pay. We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but these words have been said since the first. Alistair, if you would?"

Alistair bowed his head respectfully and began to recite, "Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day we shall join you."

"Lieutenant Commander Samantha Cousland, approach the beacon," Duncan instructed solemnly.

The previously harmless looking metal pole suddenly looked ominous to her. She glanced over to Alistair, who gave her a reassuring nod. But those hazel eyes betrayed his real feeling: he was anxious.

So, this was it?

With a heavy yet silent sigh, Samantha booted up the omni-tool on her arm and ran her fingers rapidly on it. "Alistair, if anything happens to me, please forward this email to my family."

Alistair checked his own omni-tool and nodded grimly. "Got it. You'll be fine, Sam."

Samantha glanced up at him sharply as she heard the name he used. The fact he used her nickname didn't bother her a bit, but it was the way it sounded to her, too familiar, almost as if she'd heard it before. But she quickly pushed away any feelings, dismissing them as the result of her frayed nerves. After all, there was only one thing that occupied her mind right now.

Death was at her doorstep, about to knock.

"I hope so," she mumbled to herself, then flashed a warm smile at the man who had became her fast friend, despite the trembling shaking her from within her core. "If not, it was an honor working with you, Commander." Samantha offered him a perfect salute, then turned and approached the beacon without looking back.

Samantha hated this feeling of utter helplessness. Throw her some enemies, or even darkspawn, she could deal with those with her guns. But this... Duncan had suggested that only those with the strongest minds could survive. Was her mind strong enough? _Now it's definitely not a good time to doubt yourself_, she chided silently. Putting one foot in front of another, Samantha cleared her mind and braced herself for the unknown.

As intimidating as the beacon was, approaching it turned out not to be too hard of a task. When Samantha took a few steps closer to the beacon, she felt a strange pull towards it. An unseen force dragged her towards the metallic pole as if she had turned into a piece of a magnet. The more she struggled against it, the stronger the tug. Samantha forced all her muscles to relax and stopped her futile fight against the gravitational pull. That invisible force then lifted her off the ground as a sudden flood of images rushed to her mind. She instinctively fought off the mental invasion without success. Her eyes rolled back into their sockets as random images continued to rapidly flash inside her head, taking over all her senses. Image after image flashed through so fast she couldn't get a glimpse of any of them, let alone making sense of it all. The amount of information was overwhelming; the pain in her head was unbearable. She couldn't bite back her scream. Samantha was certain her head would explode at any second.

Just when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, the flashing stopped. Everything turned black. Then suddenly an earsplitting roar rang inside her mind as the head of a giant creature popped out of nowhere and darted towards her. Samantha screamed and jolted back violently, breaking the hold of the invisible force. She fell from midair and landed on the ground like a discarded rag doll. Every bit of the rough landing was felt through her armor. Pain shooting through her entire body confirmed she wasn't dead, at least not yet. She heard someone calling her name and struggled to open her eyes, but none of the muscles in her body would respond to her command. She felt a hand gently slip underneath her shoulders while another hooked behind her knees, and weightlessly she floated up in the air.

Then, there was nothing.


	4. Carry on My Wayward Son

Dragon Age: Origins

Another Time, Another Life

A/N: A big thank you goes to Jinx1983 and RandomWittering for beta-ing this chapter. Thank you for adding this little story to your favorite/alert list. And a special thanks to those who left some encouraging words. Most of all, thank you for continuing to read this. Combining two games just isn't fun enough for me, I have to go and combine two of my stories together. The chapter title is the same as the one in The Rose of Highever, it's done intentionally.

Managed to sneak in a very tiny Star Trek reference. Good hunting. Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Carry on My Wayward Son**

* * *

Alistair watched her as she flashed a warm smile then snapped a perfect salute. Both summed her up quite accurately, from what he had discovered about her in less than a day. She was a perfectly disciplined soldier on the outside, but the woman within was surprisingly warm with a sense of humor. It was certainly weird that even though they had just met, he felt like they had known each other for a long time. And it had nothing to do with the undeniable fact that she was a pretty girl. Well, more than just pretty, if he could be the judge. With her features so soft and delicate, she looked like she belonged at a dinner party with a pretty dress more than on a battlefield with battered armor. What caught his attention the most were those sky blue eyes, they were so clear, almost as if they could see right through him, yet at times they looked so haunted whenever the incident in Highever was mentioned.

Just now, before she turned away, those eyes told him she was petrified, despite the smile she put up for him. At that instant, he wanted nothing more than to pull her way from the beacon, to shield her from what would come to her in mere seconds. The pain of his own Joining was still fresh in his mind even though almost a year had gone by. Yet somehow a tiny part of him would rather go through it all again then to have her suffer through the ritual. Why, he couldn't understand, nor could he explain the strangest feeling that he knew she would pass the Joining.

He watched as she approached the beacon as casually as if she was taking a stroll in the park. Had he not seen the terror in her eyes, he would have thought this woman was crazy to walk to her possible death with such poise. But he had seen it, underneath the perfectly disciplined soldier was a trembling young woman who was about to face death. And because of that, he knew she wasn't insane, just insanely brave.

Still, as strong as that weird feeling reassured him she would pass the Joining, he gasped out loud when she was pulled into midair. Her head snapped back, her back arched, her body trembled violently, like a doll being mishandled by a mischievous kid. Her scream filled his ears, piercing all of his senses. Despite the very core of his instinct pushing him to rush to her, he remained still and would _not _dare to move one step closer, for he knew if he interrupted the Joining, she would be as good as dead.

Her body gave a final jolt before it broke free from the force that was holding her. Alistair broke free from his own restraint and rushed to her, hoping to catch her from her fall. But even with all the enhancement in his suit, he was too late. She landed hard onto the ground with a loud thump. Her armor might have absorbed some of the impact, but from the painful grimace on her face, he knew she could feel every bit of that landing.

Pain. She felt pain; she was _not _dead.

He slid to a stop and dropped down on his knees next to her. "Sam!" he called and then louder again, "Sam!"

She struggled and twitched at her name. Alistair breathed a sigh of relief knowing she was neither dead nor comatose. He quickly tapped his earpiece to establish communication with Duncan. "Alistair to Griffon. She's still alive!" He broke into a wide grin and chuckled to relieve some of the tension.

He heard a sigh of relief from the otherwise very reserved Captain of the Grey. "Thank the Maker... Bring her back, Alistair. I'll have Wynne on standby to receive her."

"Aye, Captain." He switched off the connection and glanced down at the woman lying on the ground. Her features were still scrunching up from the pain, but they were starting to relax in front of his eyes. Alistair was alarmed by the change. "Sam! Stay with me. Sammy!" He paused, wondering where that nickname had come from, or for that matter, why he had started calling her 'Sam' to start with.

He shook his head to clear his mind, focusing only on the woman in front of her. Slipping his arms underneath her, he lifted her up rather effortlessly. He marveled at how light she actually felt in his arms – most likely thanks to one of his Grey Warden enhancements. Still, her military armor and her guns conveniently reminded him she was no damsel in distress.

"You know, now that I think about it, I understand why I had two Wardens escort me to my Joining last year," he started casually as he headed down the hill, as though she could hear him. "They needed two men to carry me off this damned place."

The downhill path was peaceful. He couldn't sense any darkspawn nearby, thank the Maker for that. He shifted her slightly in his arms and openly studied the face of the newest Warden as he made his way back to the shuttle. She looked so peaceful, almost as if she was sleeping.

And suddenly, there it was, the strangest feeling of deja vu came crashing down upon him. He felt like he had done this before, carrying an unconscious woman in his arms, rushing to seek help before it was too late. And it wasn't just any woman, it was _her_.

Alistair shook his head to clear his thoughts. "That's crazy, right?" he asked, not at all bothered by the fact that she couldn't hear him, let alone respond. "We met just yesterday, and I'm pretty sure I didn't carry you like this last night. Maybe I did in my dreams. Dreams are funny like that... Or am I going crazy? Must be that damn beacon..." He stole another look at his charge, a faint furrow between her eyebrows was the only sign of life. "Hang in there, Sam. I'll get you to Wynne in no time. She'll patch you up."

_Just like she always does..._

Alistair shoved every thought away and hurried back to the shuttle, hoping that by being as far away from the beacon as possible, that glitch, that deja vu feeling inside his head would soon be gone.

* * *

He ran down the hall of the Griffon. What minimal staff they had on board made way for him to rush through. The woman in his arms had gone stone cold in the last few minutes of the shuttle ride. He had taken off his gloves to check for her pulse. As faint as it might be, it was there. Her heart was still beating. But the lack of response had given him a chill. The grimace on her face was gone, as if she had lost the fight, as if she had given up.

Out of the two results of failing the Joining, death was the merciful one.

"Wynne!" he called out even before the door to the medical bay slid open.

The good doctor was already standing by. Equipment surrounding one particular bed told him which one to put the patient on. Alistair hurried in and lay her down gently.

"She still had minimal response until the last ten minutes or so..." he reported as dutifully as a trained soldier would. "Is she... going to make it?"

Wynne lifted up one of Samantha's eyelids and shone a small light in and out of her eye, then repeated with the other one. She checked the vitals with a scanner before she replied, "Yes, but I have to perform the surgery now."

Alistair let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Thank the Maker..." he mumbled.

"Now help me take off her armor," said Wynne as she put down the scanner.

"What?" He was surprised by the request.

"Do you see a nurse here?"

"Er... no?"

"So give me a hand, young man. I'm not as strong as I used to be." Without waiting for his reply, she instructed, "Lift her up."

Alistair sat on edge of the bed and slid an arm under the shoulders of the newest Warden to lift her up. Her body slumped lifelessly against his. Her head rolled to the side and rested just underneath his chin. And there it was, he smelled it. A very, very faint scent. Of what, he couldn't pinpoint, but it was pleasant, and oddly familiar. He knew this scent, at least he thought he should. It reminded him of a comforting embrace, or perhaps even...

He drew a sharp breath and cleared his throat. Not wanting to trespass in rather dangerous territory, he glanced around the medical bay to distract himself.

"Her armor is standard issue, there are zippers and buckles on the sides. Not that I've undressed someone before, my old armor was similar to hers, that's all I mean-" he babbled absently to keep his mind busy. That beacon had been doing strangest things to his brain.

"Alistair!" Wynne shot him a glance, already taking the boots and gloves off of her patient. "Either help me, or shut up."

"Right..." He shifted his focus back to the woman leaning against him. His fingers easily found the zippers and buckles on one side of her armor, while the doctor removed the leg guards from the young woman.

Wynne peeled off the hardsuit when Alistair was done. Underneath the armor she wore skin-tight shirt and leggings, all military standard issue, just as Alistair had expected from his own experience. What he didn't expect, however, was Wynne's next request.

"Take off her shirt," she instructed.

"What?" An unwelcome warmth crept up to his ears.

The good doctor shot him a glance with a hint of smirk as she was peeling the leggings off her patient's legs. "She still has underwear underneath. You won't be seeing a naked woman, if that's what you're afraid of. You _have _seen a naked woman before, haven't you?" she teased the young man mercilessly.

"Of course I have!" he snapped defiantly, then proceeded to lift the hem of her shirt while pointedly ignoring the doctor's chuckle.

While he could politely avert his eyes, his fingertips inevitably brushed the bare skin of her torso. The softness of the skin didn't surprise him - not that he had spent time imagining how her skin felt, at least not consciously. What alarmed him was the fact that she was rather hot. Literally.

"Wynne, I think she has a fever," Alistair informed the doctor as he pulled the shirt over her head. It was more difficult than he had thought, especially when he was trying so hard to avoid touching some delicate areas. He had never undressed an unconscious woman before - that would be creepy, to say the least.

"Yes, that's one of the side effects of the Joining," said Wynne as she straightened her patient's bare legs. "Your fever was quite high as well."

"It was? Oh maybe my brain was fried after that. That would explain why I could never-" Momentarily distracted, his arm loosened around Samantha's torso. Gravity sneaked in and pulled the young woman down from the bed. Thankfully, his reflexes proved to be faster than gravity; his arm tightened to steady her, his hand landed on something distinctively soft. Very soft.

For a baffled moment, Alistair Theirin of the Grey Wardens froze in horror.

His hand quickly shifted down to the safety zone of her waist when he heard a faint chuckle from the foot of the bed. Quite bravely, he looked up and met the brilliant blue eyes of the good doctor.

"Why are you smiling like that?" he asked with as much of an indignant tone as he could muster. "You look suspiciously like the cat who swallowed the pigeon."

"Canary."

He frowned in confusion. "What?"

"I look like the cat that swallowed the canary," the good doctor corrected him patiently.

"I once had a very large cat, but that's not my point. My point is: why are you smirking?" Hazel eyes narrowed at her.

"It's all right, Alistair. She couldn't feel that." The smirk on her face twitched up a notch.

His face started to burn. "It was an accident! I didn't mean to touch... you know..."

"I know." Still, the smirk remained.

"I brushed... touched there, maybe, but I wasn't groping... or really feeling anything soft even. Not that there's nothing there to feel..."

"Of course."

"I hate you. You're a bad person," he mumbled sullenly. A chuckle from the doctor told him she had not taken offense, in fact quite the opposite.

He shifted gently to lay Samantha down on the bed, ignoring the burn on his ears but wisely keeping his line of sight above her shoulders. For the first time since he entered the medical bay, he took a good look at her face and found it covered with a sheen of sweat. And there it was again, the very same deja vu feeling he'd had back in the wilds was once again hitting him hard. He had seen this face before, pale with sweat, hanging on the balance of life and death. An unknown fear gripped his gut and twisted it, so instinctively he couldn't explain.

"She is going to be fine, right?" he had to ask.

Wynne cast a curious glance at him but nodded. "Her vitals are within expected range. But I do have to perform the surgery now."

"Right..."

"Help me turn her over."

He did as he was bid wordlessly. She was even lighter without her armor, her skin was still hot to the touch. He stepped back and watched as Wynne prepared for the surgery. It wasn't curiosity that kept him in the medical bay, it was that instinct, once again, that urged him to stay.

But the doctor had another idea. "You should go see Duncan. I don't need your help for the surgery."

"Right." He nodded faintly and cast one final look at the unconscious woman before he turned and left, shoving all those unidentified feelings away.

Damn that stupid beacon.

* * *

"Are there any reports from the rest of the Wardens?" A blond man with icy blue eyes asked from the video screen in Duncan's office as Alistair stepped in.

"Some have sent reports back. Darkspawn are everywhere. We have only a dozen Wardens spread around the country to fight as many as we can. But if we can't locate the archdemon soon enough..."

The man in the screen nodded understandingly with a grim look on his face. But when Alistair walked within the camera's view, the man beamed at him. "Why, hello, Alistair."

Alistair stubbornly nodded at Duncan first. "Captain," he greeted, then reluctantly offered another nod at the blond man. "Mr. President."

Some would say Alistair was staring at a mirror image of himself, but Alistair would strongly disagree. He didn't see any resemblance between himself and his half-brother Cailan. Well, maybe a little if he bothered to look. And if he could bring himself to admit the truth, he would not be able to deny the resemblance at all. They both took after their father, although Cailan had a bit of his own mother in his features.

"How is our new recruit?" asked Cailan eagerly.

"Wynne is doing the surgery right now," the normally talkative young man answered as briefly as he could.

"Ah, good old Wynne..." Cailan smiled. "Congratulations, Duncan. You have added another talent to your flock."

"Thank you, sir. I'm glad she made it. I would dread bringing any bad news to both admirals if she'd failed the Joining."

"Yes, the Couslands. Maybe I should give Bryce a call to give him the good news."

"Let Sam make the call herself," Alistair spoke up without thinking.

"Sam?" Cailan looked genuinely puzzled for a moment. "Ah, Samantha Cousland. You are on a nickname basis already?" The president flashed a teasing smile, the very same one that always found its way on Alistair's own lips. Yet, right now, that smile irritated Alistair more than ever.

Alistair felt Duncan's eyes on him, one look at the captain and he knew he should keep his mouth shut. Duncan then wisely steered the conversation back on topic. "She will need some time to recover, at least one day."

Cailan nodded. "I'd like to meet her. Bring her in whenever she's ready. Meanwhile, I'll put more pressure on Loghain to give me more troops to help with the Blight."

"He still doesn't believe a Blight is coming, does he?" asked Duncan.

Cailan snorted. "Not until the archdemon personally knocks on his door and says hello. Even then, he'd probably still think it's me dressing up as it to trick him into giving me some of his precious soldiers." His cheery tone now dipped in heavy sarcasm; his friendly face darkened a few shades.

That made Alistair snicker despite himself.

"I'm glad you find that funny, Alistair. Count yourself lucky you don't have to deal with Loghain everyday."

That he agreed with wholeheartedly. Cailan might seem to have the entire country at his finger tips, but Alistair knew better. The constant power struggle between Cailan and his wife, as well as his father-in-law, would be enough to drive Alistair insane. How did his brother manage to stay relatively sane? He would never know. With an ice-block of a wife and Mr. Grumpy as the father-in-law, Alistair would rather stay single for the rest of his life, that much he knew for certain.

Thank the Maker he was not Cailan.

* * *

The surgery was a success. While Wynne was out to get her much needed break, Alistair sat by the bed where the newest Warden was still lying unconscious. Implants had been inserted in the base of her neck, wounds had been sealed, thanks to the latest medical technology. She should wake up soon, at least that was what Alistair had been told.

It was less than a year ago Alistair himself had undergone the exact same procedure. He reached to the back of his neck, trying to feel the scar or anything underneath the skin, but all he could feel was his own bones. He once had asked Wynne how the implants worked, the good doctor ever so patiently explained to the inquisitive young man, but her effort had been wasted - she had lost him three sentences in when she had started to explain the something about neuropathways. Well, it never bothered him much; he didn't know how a lot of things worked, but he knew how to use them. After all, he was a Warden, not a doctor. Knowing exactly how his implants worked would not make his aim better or his speed faster; as long as he knew how to shoot his guns and able to sense those pesky darkspawn, that's all that mattered.

Tossing a glance over at the his newest brother-in-arms, well, sister in this case, he noticed her eyes were moving rapidly behind closed lids. She was dreaming. Of what, he wished he could sneak a peek. But judging from the slight knot between her brows, he doubted it was anything pleasant. Perhaps her nightmares had already begun. If so, she had his deepest sympathy.

Alistair could still remember his first nightmare after the Joining very vividly. The hideous face of that archdemon was not something a man could ever forget once he had seen it, especially when it's a recurring nightmare. Thankfully, Alistair had learned to block it within a few weeks. But those few weeks had been a torture for him; every time he closed his eyes he could just see the archdemon and hear its ear-splitting roar. The first night he had successfully blocked those nightmares, he had slept for sixteen hours straight. No fellow Warden had had the heart to wake him up, not even Duncan. Maker bless those kind souls.

To tell the truth, he felt closer to his band of brothers than his own half-brother. He had probably spent more time with the other Wardens than he ever had with Cailan. Growing up in two different homes, Alistair had seldom seen his father, and had spent even less time with his brother. With his own mother often not around, the youngest Theirin had been raised by an army of nannies and tutors, chefs and bodyguards. All came and went like a merry-go-round. The only man that had remained constant in his life throughout his childhood was Duncan, his parents' good friend. Duncan had already joined the Wardens before Alistair was even born. The captain had been his mother's trusted partner in the Order. The stern looking man had always had a soft spot for the mischievous little blond boy. In fact, Duncan had spent so much time with him and his mother, young Alistair had once thought the dark-haired man was his father.

It was a secret wish he still held deep inside.

One would think he was following his mother's footsteps when he joined the Wardens last year. But the truth was, it was in Duncan's footsteps he was following. While his father might have given him his first toy gun, it had been Duncan who taught him how to shoot.

And now his mother had gone missing along with his father; once again only Duncan remained as a constant in his life.

A faint beep coming from his omni-tool sounded a bit too loud in this quiet medical bay. A frown appeared as he glanced down and saw one line blinking on his device. Tossing a look at the unconscious woman, he left his comfortable chair and moved to a computer nearby. Reluctantly, he established a connection.

"What is it?" he asked crisply when his mirror image appeared on the computer screen.

Instead of answering, Cailan scanned around the background behind his brother. "Where are you?"

"Sick bay."

Then came the immediate question. "You're not hurt, are you?"

Alistair let out a sigh. While Cailan might not be his absolute favorite person in the entire world, his brother's concern for him was always genuine. Who knew what kind of trouble the older Theirin had to go through to get the M-76 for his younger brother. "No, I'm here to watch over Sam- Samantha while Wynne is out for a break."

"They have you playing nurse?" That seemed to amuse Cailan a bit too much. "Looks like I have to send more medical staff to the Griffon."

Alistair shrugged. "I don't mind." When Cailan gave him a teasing look and a smirk, he quickly added, "I mean, keep the staff at minimum for security reasons. Isn't that the policy?"

Cailan groaned and held his forehead. "Policy... Don't remind me of that word. My head hurts as is."

Alistair smirked faintly. "That throne isn't as comfortable as you thought, is it?"

Calian patted the armrest of his leather chair. "It's the worst seat in the entire country. Especially with the father-and-daughter team breathing down my neck every single day."

Alistair glanced at his brother curiously. "So why did you marry her?" It was a question he had always wanted to ask, now was the chance, so why not?

Cailan chuckled, yet there was no humor behind it. "What do you think?"

For the campaign. For the seat. For their father's legacy. "Was it worth it?"

The older Theirin breathed out a weary sigh. "Dad left without giving me much time to prepare for a campaign, let alone securing my own support base. If I didn't do it, think about what a different president would have done to the Grey Wardens once he'd been elected?"

They would do what the other countries had done in the past decades: disbanded the organization.

"We both know the threat is real, but most people don't think so." A shadow once again cast on Cailan's face. "Dad had been working so hard to keep the Grey Wardens together, I couldn't let another person come in and destroy all he had accomplished. We are the only country that has kept the organization."

Alistair knew what his brother meant. The dozen Wardens were all that was left from centuries of legacy. Once there were thousands, then hundreds, then down to a hundred, and now their very small group that could hold a meeting in the mess hall.

"You've been groomed for that position," Alistair stated without a hint of envy.

Yet there was more than a shade of envy in Cailan's tone. "I'd rather use that M-76 of yours instead of sitting here in this chair. Fighting darkspawn beats dealing with Loghain everyday." There was another weary sigh. "But, we each have our role to play."

It was one of the few times Alistair actually felt sorry for his brother. Just when he was about to give a witty retort, he saw Cailan suddenly glance up over his monitor.

"Mr. President! I told her-"

"It's all right..." Cailan claimed rather calmly, but Alistair noticed his jaw was clenched.

Then, there was a faint clunk that sounded suspiciously like a datapad slamming down onto the desk. "What is the meaning of this?" A sharp yet feminine voice demanded. The owner of that voice was on the other side of Cailan's desk, Alistair couldn't see her face. But he would bet one month of his salary to make a guess: it had to be Anora.

Cailan spared a glance at the datapad before looking at the screen. "I'll talk to you later." With that, the connection was severed.

Alistair stared at the blank screen for a second. He recognized that last look on Cailan's face, for he had the same look when he was keeping his temper in check. For the second time that day, Alistair was glad he was not Cailan.

A faint groan broke the silence in the medical bay and drew his attention. He walked over to check on the newest Warden, only to find her stirring in her sleep but not yet awake. Deciding to let Wynne rest for a moment longer, Alistair took the seat by the bedside once more and made himself comfortable with his datapad in his hand. With one tap on the pad, the screen came back to life, once again displaying the book he had been reading before the interruption.

From the story, Lady Elisabeth had decided to take the hardest path in order to save the possessed child with minimum bloodshed. Time was of the essence in that situation, the path Elisabeth had chosen - seeking outside help - would take more than a bit of time to accomplish. Years of military training told him the safest way to end the fictional crisis would be the most straightforward one: killing the possessed kid before he could harm any more innocent , Alistair knew he could never aim his weapon at a child, let alone pull the trigger. He had to admire the courage and the decisiveness of Elisa, she was not afraid to take the hardest road if it meant doing the right thing. Alexander was lucky to have a partner like her.

Now if he could just reach inside the story and smack Alexander's head for being the whiny bastard that he sometimes could be.

Bastard... Well at least Alex and himself had that much in common.

He glanced up from his datapad absently, his gaze landed on the blonde woman as he recalled the conversation they'd had last night. She had claimed that knowing Alex as the bastard prince would not make a difference to her, if she were Elisa. Alistair wondered how much of that would still hold true if he told her his father was Maric Theirin, the missing former president of Ferelden.

While her words had been sincere, he could not be sure of her reaction until he told her, _if _he needed to tell her. Was he too cautious? Perhaps so. But it's the real Ferelden they lived in, not the fictional one in the book. He was not Alexander, she was not Elisabeth, and their lives were not some crazy story.

With the Blight looming, and the archdemon roaring, Alistair wished his life was just a crazy story. After all, the good guys in the story always win, right?

Right...


	5. When the Grief Lets You Go

Dragon Age: Origins

Another Time, Another Life

A/N: A big thanks to Jinx1983 for beta-ing this chapter.

A special thanks to my dear friend Amanda for letting me use her character in this chapter, even though he was not named here. This particular character has always been very special to me, and with more than 10 years of character development, he is as real as any living and breathing human being in my mind. If only I had written down his story with Pre-Cousland Samantha, it would make a very interesting yet heartbreaking tale.

Thank you for reading this crazy little story. It will get crazier as the plot moves along. You have a glimpse of it in this chapter. And thank you for putting this on the favorite/alert list. Last but not least, thank you for taking the time to leave me a note. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy to hear from the other side of the monitor.

Chapter title came from Xenosaga III OST.

* * *

**Chapter Five: When the Grief Lets You Go**

* * *

Pain.

All she could feel was pain. All she could hear was gunfire.

Her human instinct urged her to let go of her consciousness and surrender to the unbearable pain. Her soldier's training ordered her to get back on her feet and grab her gun and fight.

The soldier won.

Samantha struggled to open her eyes. She found herself lying on the ground, surrounded by debris - remnants of a recent battle. Among pieces of broken glass and twisted metal, she caught a glimpse of her gun buried within and reached for it.

Something didn't feel right. The gun was too heavy, the shape of its grip felt different when her fingers curled around it. As Samantha spared a curious look at the weapon, her brows knotted in confusion. It was a gun she had not used for a few years. Baffled, she cast a quick look around and immediately recognized the surroundings.

She was in Highever.

Millions of thoughts rushed to her at once, but all were shattered when she heard a loud explosion. Instinctively, she covered her face with her arm as the ground shook. More debris fell on top of her, thankfully her armor shielded her from harm.

Her human instinct told her to take cover, while the soldier's training demanded her to take action. Once again, the soldier won. With her gun in her hand, Samantha Cousland pushed herself up despite the pain, and crouched behind a giant piece of metal nearby. It was a door, or at least it used to be before the destruction, she absently noted as she peeked from her cover to assess the situation.

To her horror, she saw a figure dashing away, his gun blazing as he fought his way out to clear a path. A bloody path for her escape, she knew - no, she _recognized_, for it was a scene that had haunted her dreams many months after the incident. Only now it was more than just a fading memory.

She was in Highever, on the battlefield of the Cousland's mansion, reliving that fateful day five years ago.

It was a perfect replay of the incident. Rendon Howe's men were outside, she knew, attacking viciously. The pain she felt was as crippling as it had been then, the explosions just as loud. But why was she back here? Or, how?

Although none of those questions mattered when her instinct took over upon hearing another series of gunfire. Samantha leaped out of her cover and raced to follow the man who had run out of her sight. He needed her help as he had needed it five years ago. She was weaker then, unable to fight the pain and succumbed to unconsciousness. But now, she was different - stronger, faster, and more experienced. She couldn't save him that day in Highever, but she might be able to save him now.

Or so she hoped.

A sudden explosion sent her flying and slammed her into a wall. She took a hard hit and landed on the floor. Then, curiously, all went quiet. The pain in her body was gone, the cold hard floor became soft.

Samantha opened her eyes once more, this time without struggle. The battlefield in Highever disappeared. What greeted her was the ceiling of an intact room, warm sunlight filtered through a large window nearby.

The surrounding was familiar. Too familiar. It was a place she had buried deep inside her heart for many years.

It was his room.

Sitting up on the bed that she had spent a fair share of nights in, she looked around and absorbed the details. Everything in this room was exactly how she remembered them, including her picture on his desk. The girl smiling in the picture was young, no more than twenty years of age. Straight long blonde hair with bangs that fell just above her eyes, soft sky blue eyes twinkled with a bright smile, cheeks glowed in pink where the sun had kissed them. Samantha almost didn't recognize herself in the picture, taken seven years ago.

The incident in Highever had changed her, for better or worse.

A familiar assault rifle was casually placed on the desktop. She got out of the bed, walked towards the desk and ran a finger on the weapon. The gun was carefully maintained in excellent condition, there was no signs of scratches on its surface, at least not yet. But it would be scratched, she knew that for a fact, because it was the exact same gun she had been carrying around for the past five years.

"Hello, Sam."

She turned around and came face to face with a man she had not seen since that day in Highever. He had not changed a bit - same short honey blond hair, sharp but handsome features, and those piercing green eyes that were looking straight into her soft blue ones.

For once, Samantha Cousland couldn't find words.

"So you're a Grey Warden now. Congratulations," he said with a teasing smirk. It was an expression he always wore when he was not scowling with disapproval of things around him. It was that same look that had drawn her to him years ago; it began with a curiosity to peek underneath that arrogant surface of his. Somehow, he let her in; somehow, she managed to become one of the few things he had ever approved of.

"Am I... dead?" She finally found her voice and stepped closer to him.

He shook his head. "No, you are not dead."

She was confused, but not at all disappointed. Not being dead was definitely good. "This..." She gestured to the room around her. "This is not real. You are not real?" She reached out to touch his face, her fingers traced along his cheekbone. He certain felt real to the touch.

"I am dead. You know that." His words were painfully direct, as they had always been.

Blunt truth was what she could always count on him to deliver. He had never been one with pretty words or sugar-coated lies. Still, it did sting like burning Black City to hear those words from him. A wall she had spent the past five years building around her was now threatening to crumble.

In front of him, she was always just a woman, never a soldier.

She bit her lower lip quite painfully and blinked back a tear that was threatening to fall. Samantha Cousland had not cried in years, not since his funeral. "... I am sorry. If I didn't-"

"You think I would let you die?" He cut her off and arched an eyebrow at her. "I would do it again if I have to."

Again came the blunt truth as well as the sting it brought with it. Her throat tightened. So much could be said, yet she could only find three words. "I missed you."

"I know. But it's time to let me go. Let go of your guilt."

She shook her head. "I can't. It's my fault that you died."

"You have to," he insisted firmly. "It's Howe's fault, not yours. You have a Blight to deal with, Sam. You have been chosen to fight it. So, go, fight this battle."

There was finality in his tone. Samantha looked at him in alarm. "Are you leaving?"

"It's time for _you _to leave."

"Will I see you again?" she had to ask.

He studied her for a moment, amused. The corners of his lips curled up into a faint smile, a genuine one - an expression he reserved only for her. "Maybe in another life."

He leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. Her eyes shut tight at the familiar touch. The wall around her finally crumbled, tears rolled down her cheeks.

When she opened her eyes once more, the sun-lit room was gone, replaced by one that was filled with artificial lighting. The man peered down at her no longer had sharp green eyes, but warm hazel ones.

"Wynne! She's awake!" She heard the man say. A name came to her when he glanced down at her again with a wild grin of relief on his face: Alistair.

Wynne... Alistair... Yes, she was alive. She survived the Joining.

Samantha blinked to let her eyes adjust to the light in the infirmary. She felt something tickling her cheek and brushed it off, just to find her fingertips were wet with tears. Both horrified and embarrassed, she hastily wiped her eyes with the back of her hand before Wynne came to her bedside. If Alistair had seen anything, he didn't say a word. For that, she was grateful.

She propped herself up to her elbows but was stopped by the doctor's hand on her shoulder. She immediately knew why - a surge of sharp pain was sent from the back of her neck to her head as soon as she attempted to move. Her head threatened to split in half as she eased back down onto the pillow.

"Easy there. How are you feeling, Sam?" asked the doctor.

Still wincing from pain, she took a few deep breaths to steady herself. "I've been worse," she answered with a wry smile that turned into grimace. "My head hurts."

"That's normal. Your headache will be gone soon enough." Wynne reached for a syringe and injected its content into her vein.

Her headache slowly began to subside. Thank the Maker. "How long was I out?"

Wynne checked the clock. "Almost twelve hours."

"Do you remember anything from the Joining?" asked Alistair from the other side of her bed.

"There were images flashing through my mind, too many of them, flashing too fast for me to recognize any." She closed her eyes, trying to recall the images, but none came to her, except one. "And there's a giant creature. It looked almost like a... dragon." She hesitated to use that word, for it sounded too ridiculous even inside her own head. Yet that was the only description she could think of.

To her surprise, Alistair didn't laugh at her vision, not even a tiny chuckle. Instead, he just nodded knowingly. "That's the archdemon."

Sky blue eyes widened in shock. "_That's_ the archdemon? That's what we have to fight?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Alistair confirmed. "But like everything else, it can be killed. The problem we have right now is to find it."

She recalled something he had mentioned before. "Won't the 'Grey Warden tingling sense' help locating the enemies?"

Alistair flashed a warm smile. "Are you always going to remember my babble? I really could get use to this, you know. Finally someone listens to me for a change..." He shook his head before he continued, "We can't sense the darkspawn until they are nearby. They won't take us by surprise, we have that edge over the normal soldiers, among other things. But we can't tune in to their radio frequency and listen to the archdemon preaching and singing at will. Not consciously anyway."

"'Not consciously'?" she followed up his trail.

He paused for a moment then asked, "Did you have strange dreams?"

"I don't remember," she lied.

Hazel eyes scanned her face almost sympathetically. He must have seen the tears before she wiped them off. Thankfully he didn't press the subject. "I had the strangest dreams after my Joining. These dreams come and go. It's when we sleep, that we can 'listen' to the horde of darkspawn, or even the archdemon."

Samantha scowled at that information; she didn't like that news at all. "You mean I'll hear the darkspawn whenever I sleep from now on?"

"Well, you'll learn to suppress it in time. Took me weeks to learn that, but eventually, you'll be able to block it out and sleep like a normal person."

Wynne checked the monitoring devices by the bed and took some notes on her datapad. "You seem to be adjusting pretty well to the Joining and the surgery. One good night sleep is all you'll need to get back to normal."

"What surgery?"

"Er... I told you about the physical enhancements, right?" Alistair gingerly reminded her. "Wynne operated on you when you passed out."

"What?" She sat up immediately, ignoring the pain in her head due to the sudden movements. "What have you done to me?" She did _not _like to be operated on without consent.

It wasn't until she saw Alistair's wide eyes glued onto her torso, that she realized her clothing had been removed for the surgery, and the thin blanket that had been covering her modesty was now on her lap. She quickly pulled it back up to her chest, putting an end to whatever thoughts that was going through his mind. Face red, Alistair politely turned away with a cough.

"I've implanted a chip near the base of your skull that will enhance your skills. All Wardens have that. Your chip and Alistair's are the latest model with many improvements from the previous ones," Wynne explained as she moved behind her patient, all while pretending none of the previous exchange between the two Wardens had happened. The doctor's touch was gentle as she brushed Samantha's hair away from the back of her neck for the examination. "You are recovering very nicely, Sam. The scar is minimal, and it will fade in time."

"What kind of enhancements?" Soft blue eyes narrowed warily.

"Strength, speed, endurance, and all your senses are sharpened," said Wynne. "The latest chip takes away several side effects the previous ones have. Headache for example." Wynne looked at the young man whose face was still faintly flushed. "Do you have any headache recently, Alistair?"

"No. Not since you asked me to do an inventory count for you again last week. That headache was painful." He faked a grimace at the doctor.

"Thank you for your useful information, young man. Next time when I want to inflict pain on you, I know what to do," answered the doctor with a hint of teasing smirk.

"Are all women this evil and conniving when they grow old?"

"Just me, my dear." Wynne chuckled. "Just me."

Taking her time to digest the information, Samantha eventually asked, "So you are making me a... super human?" That wasn't so bad, was it?

"All Wardens are made to be super human, both physically and mentally. That's the advantage you need in order to fight the darkspawn." Wynne finished her examination. "Everything is normal. You are free to go now."

"Duncan wants to see you," informed Alistair.

She glanced at the clock. It was past midnight. "Now?"

"He's still up, I'm sure." His eyes inevitably traced down to the thin blanket, then coughed awkwardly. He tilted his head towards the door, looking anywhere but her. "I... er... I'll go tell him that you're awake. See you in his office when you're ready."

Samantha didn't move until he was gone.

"Your clothing is in that locker," said Wynne as she helped the newest Warden off the bed. "I suggest you get some rest after your meeting with the captain."

"Thank you, Wynne." She smiled at the doctor gratefully. Even though she almost as naked as the day she was born, with only her underwear to cover her lower half, Wynne somehow managed to make her feel comfortable; there was nothing the doctor who had delivered her twenty seven years ago had not seen.

"Anytime. Welcome to the Grey Wardens, Sam. It's good to have you here."

* * *

"Welcome to the Grey Wardens, Samantha," Duncan greeted her warmly and gestured at the empty seat across his desk. There was more than a hint of smile on the stoic captain's face. "How are you feeling?"

Samantha resisted the habitual salute. Instead, she nodded politely at the captain as she took a seat next to Alistair. "Thank you, sir. Beside the headache, I am fine."

"You don't need to call me 'sir'. Captain is fine, or Duncan. Just ask Alistair." The captain shot a look at the other Warden, who merely flashed an easy smile back. "As the doctor must have told you, the headache will go away soon. I am more concerned about your adjustment to the enhancements."

"I... haven't noticed any differences, yet."

"Hm, I see..." Duncan nodded and glanced over at Alistair, who reached over and grabbed a datapad, knocking over a glass of water at the edge of the desk. Samantha reached to steady the glass so quickly that she had it held upright before a drop of water could spill out.

"Nice catch," Alistair teased with a small grin.

"I..." She put the glass of water down and stared at it, momentarily baffled by her reflex. She was always fast, it was one of her assets, as her instructors at the academy had told her. While she might lack the physical strength of her male opponents, her speed and flexibility had won her many hand-to-hand combat competitions. But this... This level of agility was uncanny.

"You will notice more changes in days to come." Duncan's voice brought her back to reality. "Alistair will train with you to let you adapt to your enhancements."

"You might even beat me at arm wrestling now." He grinned at her.

"Is that a challenge?" she found herself asking before she could stop the words.

He laughed. "Why not make it so? Tell you what, if you lose, you'll have to take me out for dinner."

Samantha had to snort at that. A smile played on her lips she didn't bother to suppress. "And if I win?"

His mischievous grin broadened. "Why, I'll take you out instead, of course. It's only fair."

The absurdity of this deal made her raise an eyebrow, yet she couldn't find it in herself to reject this friendly and harmless proposal, not with that puppy face staring at her. "Fine."

Hazel eyes twinkled in delight, but a loud sigh from the captain quickly quieted down whatever Alistair was about to say.

Duncan shot a look at Alistair before he continued with the official business, "You have been released from your previous military division and official transferred to the Grey Wardens. All necessary paperwork have been taken care of. As you know, we operate outside the chain of command, and answer only to the president. From now on, you no longer have to follow the military protocol. You have access to the best weapons, as well as the Grey Warden headquarters in Denerim, and of course the Griffon. Everything is explained in a package that has been sent to you in your email."

"Don't forget the best part, Captain: the armor," Alistair reminded with a smile.

"Your new armor is ready for you. Alistair will show you to the armory when you have a chance tomorrow." Duncan paused for a moment and glanced at her. "I am sure you have a lot of questions about the darkspawn, but we will have time to discuss those later. For now, you need to rest. But before I let you go, I have to ask you about your visions - what you saw from the beacon."

"There were too many images flashing too fast. I couldn't see any clearly."

"But you saw the archdemon," Duncan stated instead of asked. Apparently Alistair had already informed him, although she didn't mind a bit.

"Yes, very briefly. A... dragon-shaped creature. It sensed me and looked right at me. The next thing I knew, I fell onto the ground and couldn't move." It sounded crazy when she said it out loud, even the second time around.

Yet, that didn't seem to faze the Captain of the Grey, instead he just nodded. "That's the way the mental link works. The archdemon sees us just as we see it. You will have some strange dreams, some nightmares in the following weeks or maybe even months. Those are not just dreams, but visions. When the archdemon communicates with its horde, you too will get the signal if you are asleep. Such dreams will go away eventually, when you learn how to block it. From now on, if you have any nightmares, tell me or Alistair. It may contain crucial information on the archdemon's next move."

"I will. May I speak freely, Captain?"

Duncan looked amused. "Of course, Samantha. As I've told you, you are no longer bound by the military protocol. There is no ranking system here. 'Captain', 'commanders', those are just titles for the officials when we are dealing with the military. While I am your leader, I'm also a Warden, just like you. We are a family with one common goal: to fight darkspawn."

Alistair leaned over, close enough for his head to almost touch hers, then whispered, "Don't let that beard fool you, our captain is a big softy, especially when it comes to young Wardens like us."

Samantha arched an eyebrow at the young man who merely flashed a charming smile back, neither seemed to be bothered by the closeness. A heavy sigh from the captain indicated their leader had heard that comment, Alistair straightened up then leaned back at his own chair, faking a cough to cover a snicker.

Duncan shook his head at Alistair's antics before turning his attention to the newest Warden. "Always feel free to speak your mind, Samantha. As you can see, Alistair has no problem with that."

"Where are the rest of the Wardens?"

Duncan's thick eyebrows knotted slightly. "We have about than two dozens in number. In the past weeks, there were numerous reports of darkspawn sightings throughout Ferelden. I've sent them all out to investigate, leaving only Alistair here to anticipate your arrival. Unfortunately, darkspawn seem to be more active lately, and we don't have enough Wardens to deal with each incident."

"Can you recruit more?"

"Not everyone can be a Warden. Only those with strongest mind could survive the Joining. If I didn't think you could make it, I would not have recruited you. Having an open enrollment would potentially get a lot of capable soldiers killed. Ultimately, the Wardens are the ones who could kill the archdemon and end the Blight, but if we ever have to face a large horde of darkspawn, our number will not be enough to defeat all of them, we will need as much help as we can from the military."

There might be hundreds or perhaps even thousands of darkspawn out there, and only two dozens Wardens. Samantha didn't like the odds a bit. And she wasn't even counting the giant hideous creature called the archdemon. "Do we even have enough Wardens to end the Blight?"

"Let's pray to the Maker that we do." The captain frowned grimly, but his gaze softened when it landed on his latest recruit. "Don't worry about it for now. Get some rest. We will take off in the morning and head to Denerim tomorrow. The president wants to see you."

Samantha raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Why would he want to see me?"

"To give you a personal welcome, I suppose," Duncan hazarded a guess. "The president is our greatest supporter. He likes to get to know each of us personally."

Alistair shifted in his chair rather restlessly, she noticed. She cast a curious glance at her fellow Warden before she asked, "What time is the appointment, Captain?"

"The president asked to have dinner with us."

"Dinner?" Samantha asked at the same time as Alistair blurted out, "Us?"

"Yes, dinner. You are invited too, Alistair. Didn't Cailan talk to you already?"

"I... So that's why he called," Alistair mumbled to himself.

"We will be stationed in Denerim for a few days. Giving you a chance to recover and get used to the chip implanted. The admirals are in Denerim, I trust?"

Samantha immediately knew which admirals Duncan was referring to. "Yes, they are."

"Good, you will have a few days to see them before we take off again."

"Where to this time?" asked Alistair.

"Ostagar."

* * *

She walked through the ruin of a fortress. Fog had rolled in; the path in front of her was obscured, yet somehow she knew where she was heading. She cleared a few stone steps and walked into the remnant of a once grand building. Her legs made a turn and brought her to another flight of stairs. She climbed up dutifully, knowing her destination was nearby. The sound of two men arguing confirmed what she was seeking was indeed there, or whom, in this case.

One of them stormed passed her without sparing her a glance. Although it didn't bother her at all, the one she wanted was still standing there, grinning at her with the same easy smile she had found comfort in time and time again.

Samantha had no choice but to walk towards the man as he was approaching her. Like two opposite ends of a magnet, they were drawn to each other from start. "You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together," said the young man with hazel eyes that twinkled in amusement when he looked at her.

She knew that face; it was too familiar, too dear to her not recognize it. A smile played on her lips as warmth filled her heart. But before she could respond, the scene in front of her changed without warning. The young man was gone. She was surrounded by a blanket of green haze that was thicker than the fog in the ruin. Just as she took a step forward, the haze cleared, revealing a monster behind it - one giant monster that was more than a few stories tall. Samantha drew a sharp breath and wisely looked around for cover. Yet there was none to be found. There was nothing but the creature and her.

As if sensing her presence through her fear, the monster turned and looked at her.

Was it a... dragon?

Samantha immediately reached for her gun, but it wasn't there. The creature darted its hideous head towards her and let out a roar so loud that would certainly deafen her temporarily, if not for life. She fell onto her backside, arm raised to shield herself from the inevitable attack, and instinctively screamed from the top of her lungs.

"Sam... Sam! Samantha!"

She heard her name and shot open her eyes. And just like that, the monster was gone. The same face that had been replaced by the demon a moment ago was back once again. Warm hazel eyes stared right at her, full of concern.

Scanning around rather frightfully, Samantha was momentarily confused by the sudden change. Her mind reasoned it was just a nightmare she was having, yet it felt too real to be one. It was as if she was there, she could even feel the heat from the creature's breath as it roared at her. She found herself gasping for air, her heart beat wildly inside her chest.

"Sam, Sammy! Look at me," came a soothing voice that caught her attention, grounding her back to reality.

She turned and stared blankly at the man who was crouching next to her bed. The name Alistair suddenly blurted out was not unfamiliar to her, but only her family called her that. Yet when it was said with his voice, there was something comforting and familiar about it. It was as natural for her to hear it as it seemed to be for him to say it, so much so she could have sworn that she had heard him calling her Sammy before.

"It's all right, Sam. It was just a nightmare. You are back on the Griffon. Safe," Alistair emphasized the last word, squeezing her arms gently. His hands felt warm on her bare skin.

Blinking several times to clear her head, she took a few deep breaths to calm her pounding heart. She swallowed hard before she could find her voice. "I saw it..."

That was all she needed to say. Alistair nodded understandingly. "That's the archdemon," he confirmed.

Samantha shut her eyes and let out a tired sigh. If that's the nightmare she had to endure, she would rather suffer from severe sleep deprivation than to pay a visit to the archdemon nightly.

"You'll learn to block it out soon enough," Alistair commented as if he could read her mind. She cast a skeptical glance at him, he merely grinned back. "The first time I saw it in my dream, I screamed so loud that I woke everyone. Even Duncan heard me from his quarters. He had to rush in when he thought we had a girl in here."

She couldn't help but chuckle at his embarrassing tale. Tension drained from her muscles as she began to relax. It was then she glanced around and noticed the room was still dim, the only source of light was the one he had turned on by her bed. "...What time is it?"

He turned and checked the clock before he answered, "A bit after four."

Her face flushed when she realized she had woken him from his sleep. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." But truth be told, she was thankful that he woke her up when he did. Samantha wouldn't want to spend one more second in the vision even when she now knew the archdemon couldn't do any physical harm to her.

"Don't worry about it. I woke eight men with my girly scream, you only woke one with yours." He chuckled. "And I'm not even a girl."

She smiled at that. "Thank you, Alistair."

"Right. That's what I'm here for - witty one-liner and being a pain in the butt for Duncan." They shared a grin before he continued, "Do you think you can go back to sleep? We will be heading to Denerim soon enough, but here in our quarters, you won't feel a thing when the Griffon takes off or lands. You'll sleep right through it."

Samantha nodded. "I'll try. Thank you... for waking me up, and for being here."

"Don't mention it." He straightened up and glanced down at her with a small mischievous smile. "I mean literally. I won't mention anything about the scream if you don't. Your secret is safe with me."

"Just between us, then."

He nodded. "Just between us."

She watched him as he retreated back to his bunk before she closed her eyes once more. His sense of humor might ease her mind and bring a smile to her face, but it was his voice that soothed her nerves and calmed her heart. There was something very comforting about it, and something oddly familiar.

She had heard that voice before, and she had loved it.

Just before she drifted back to sleep, at a hidden corner of her mind, she could hear that voice saying, "You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together..."


End file.
